


Rise Of The Red Hood

by TheFightingBull



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Crime Fighting, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Family, M/M, Murder, Non PC Insults, Not Canon Compliant, Potty mouth Jason, Swearing, rude language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 193,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new vigilante has started to stalk the criminals of Gotham and unlike the Bat, he's ending them where they stand. Batman is trying to team up with Nightwing to put the serial killer behind bars but between his own ailments, Dick's distraction with a mysterious and foul-mouthed young man named JT Bennet, and Tim's constant interrogations he's not sure he'll survive this investigation. (This story contains some canon but does not follow it. I cannot warn enough that this story is NOT canon compliant and because of this some characters will be a little OOC. Dick Grayson is GCPD instead of Bludhaven because I didn't like the man he became once he moved there. Other stuff changes to fit my story line. This is a male on male slash story with some explicit content.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suffer The Wicked No More

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I've written Bat-Fiction before but I have never posted any that was slash so I hope you slash lovers enjoy it. If you don't, read some other stuff. This is mostly being written for my roommate who is absolutely in love with Dick Grayson. I should also warn that I have never written sex scenes before so hopefully they don't suck. Heavy introspection in the first chapter but it winds down afterward and multiple POVs. There is mention of rape, and other such atrocities, so be aware of your triggers and keep in mind this story is rated M for graphic violence, intimacy, language, brief mentioning of child pornography, rape and other criminal acts.

Chapter 1

December 4th

Pain had never been a motivating factor for his second ward. It was just something he learned to ignore. Or at least that's how he knew the boy saw it. The truth was all to clear to Bruce; pain was all that kept him going. Pain was turned to rage and rage had always been the boy's greatest allie, it was his greatest strength and it was also his greatest weakness. Rage was the boy's constant companion and it was something he wasn't even aware of.

Why?

Because Jason Peter Todd never, ever looked in the mirror. He never bothered to learn who he was, how he operated, or how he coped with day to day life and it's stresses. He simply existed. He reacted in all things. Never did he plan ahead and always he felt justified in his actions.

Bruce had recognized his incredible stubbornness after spending a mere five minutes with him. Rage and stubbornness; it's what made him work so hard. He worked harder than his first ward because it didn't come as naturally to him as it had Dick Grayson. He had to study longer because he wasn't as book smart as Dick had been. Everything about Jason's style and personality seemed the opposite of Dick's.

His first Boy Wonder was loyal, loving, happy, easy going and naturally talented in many ways. The boy was charming and open which made him likable. He was curious and investigative which meant he caught on quickly. Dick was mostly playful and expressive, two things that allowed Bruce to always know what the boy was thinking or even what he was up to. He was fast, lithe, short, graceful and fearless and that made him the perfect acrobat.

Jason Todd was suspicious, skeptical, cynical, critical, and pessimistic with few natural abilities outside of brawling. He was mean, antisocial, sarcastic and ungrateful which left him unliked by most. He never put his nose where he felt it didn't belong nor did he really care how things worked which meant that he missed things or fell behind. Jason was brooding and never talked about himself or especially about how he felt; leaving Bruce in a constant state of concern. The boy was a little thicker and a bit taller with uncertain footing and a fear of failing which led to a lack of confidence.

It was the rage that kept him striving for better, that pushed him harder than any of Batman's Robins. Jason knew where his shortcomings were by measuring himself against Dick and he forced himself to fit in the mold of Grayson. It didn't matter that his body was built differently, Jason was going to make sure no one thought him lacking in physicality. He spent hours upon hours practicing until all of that anger burned out and he was left exhausted on a training mat.

Several times Bruce thought about ending Jason's training but in the end he saw the progress that pure determination had brought about. His motivation carried him through until he finally learned that he didn't have to move just like Dick. The boy developed a style all his own and Bruce couldn't help but be proud and impressed by his perseverance. His nights fighting by Jason's side had been frustrating, worrisome, dangerous and yet he looked back on them with fondness.

He sat at his desk and looked over the children he'd mentored, he'd trained and fought along side of. Richard Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake. He missed them all when they were absent and he thought about each of them with the same affection that he felt a father would to the younger ones and that a brother would feel to the older ones. They were his family, chosen by him during moments of anguish and loneliness, moments of empathy and moments of desperation.

So, why? Why had he thought so much of the six years deceased, Jason Todd, lately? For the past three weeks he looked on the boy's picture and contemplated their time together. He looked to the calendar and sighed. He'd hoped that it was just a subconscious awareness of some special date, but it just wasn't so. There was no birthday, anniversary of their meeting or of the boy's demise. So, why? Why was he on his mind?

He hated moments of introspection. They left him feeling anxious, angry and maybe a tad depressed. Normally the billionaire was so distracted with his company, the city, his surrogate family, or even his friends in The Justice League, but tonight was a rarity. His arm was broken, Dick was out being a cop for Gotham PD, Tim was out patrolling, Lucious was running his company just fine and while Alfred was around, he was busy being Tim's contact in the Bat Cave.

He sighed and found himself turning the picture of Jason down on it's face. He couldn't look at the irritable teenager anymore. It was going to break him, it was going to drive him as mad as the Joker. Thinking of the Joker obviously didn't help but he found himself winding down that path anyhow because he wanted so badly to blame the 'Clown Prince of Crime'.  
Of course that was ludicrous because in the end, Bruce knew exactly who he blamed. Dick would tell him he couldn't blame himself, Alfred would declare it preposterous, Tim would point out how illogical a thought it was, but their reactions wouldn't make the truth any less true.

The fact of the matter was that if Batman and Bruce had simply trusted Robin and Jason, he wouldn't have lost him. Had he not put a wedge between himself and the young man, if he'd just believed in him enough to ask him what happened to Felipe, Jason never would have needed to seek out his real mother. Bruce knew he'd been the one to drive the boy away, to send him running into the arms of a woman who never put him first and never would. All Jason ever wanted was to be accepted and yet Bruce had held back.

He rested his head in his hands as he tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the arguments sprang to life in his head anyhow. He could hear himself berating Jason and the boy's angry response.

“You're only saying this because Dick's little bitch warned you about me!” He'd bellowed only to be punched in the jaw by Dick. “Batbitch hits harder than you do, Goldie!”

Bruce had stepped between them and shoved Dick away before turning on the younger. “Jason, enough! When will you grow up?”

“When will you ask me what happened?” Jason had retorted with a red face and narrowed angry eyes. “Why won't you ask me what happened up there, B?”

“Because it wouldn't change anything!” He'd shouted back.

Bruce took a deep breath and stood from his desk and walked around it to face the blazing fireplace, as his response continued to haunt him. He never once asked him for his version of events. Not because Bruce knew the truth, but because he didn't know the truth. He had no way of knowing for sure what happened to Felipe and he would have to trust whatever came out of Jason's mouth or worse, accept it if he had flung him out the window. If he had pushed him it would put an end to their already tumultuous partnership and what would that change? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He also didn't ask Jason because he knew he wouldn't believe him if he denied it. He didn't trust the boy, how could he? The boy was only one outfit away from being a criminal himself and that's what had shaken Bruce to his core that night. The realization that he thought little of Jason, that he would never see him as the Boy Wonder; Jason would forever be the tainted Robin, the one who if not for him, would be part of the criminal element. Bruce hated himself and Jason for forcing him to realize that he was an elitist snob who couldn't see beyond the boy's past.

“Bruce?” He turned to face Dick, surprised that he was here at the mansion. “You doing ok?”

Dick stood in the doorway wearing a black motorcycle jacket and light wash blue jeans. His long wavy hair was pulled back into a pony tail and he was holding his black and blue face helmet under one arm, telling Bruce he'd still been riding that damned bullet bike everywhere.

“Yes of course. What can I do for you, Dick?” He asked with a weary smile. He knew he wasn't fooling the young vigilante but at least he wouldn't press him about it.

“Look, I know that this isn't a good time, with you being side-lined and all, but I thought you needed to see this for yourself.” The young man reached into his pocket with his freehand and pulled out a DVD case.

“Why don't you just tell me what's on it, Dick, there's no need for theatrics.” Bruce chuckled, trying to shake the bad feeling that whatever was on that disk was going to crush him.

“You need to see it, Bruce. I don't know anyway to explain what's on it other than to have you watch it.” Dick frowned which only served to concrete that hollow feeling in Bruce's stomach. If Dick Grayson didn't smile or laugh, even at a lame attempt at a joke, than the world was indeed about to come crashing down on him.  

Bruce walked over to his desk, turned on his lap top and put in the DVD. He watched as five masked men took the bank patrons hostage rapidly. Men and women had quickly dropped to their bellies and allowed the masked criminals to rob them of their wallets, phones, jewelry, watches and of course, money. Everything seemed to be going just the way the the robbers had planned until a large figure walked into the bank with two handguns and began firing away at them.

The man was wearing dark gray tactical pants bloused around black combat boots, a dark brown leather riding jacket and what looked like a red motorcycle helmet. The gunfight was brief as only three of the robbers even had a chance to fight back, though they quickly fell to the stranger's superior marksmanship. Once all five men were dead or dying, the gunman gathered their weapons and simply left the bank without saying a single word. He left behind a cardboard sign that looked similar to one the homeless carried. It read: No More Fear In Gotham.

“This isn't good.” Bruce frowned. “This happened just the other night, but I was unaware of a masked vigilante's presence. Tim was rounding up Penguin and his men.”

“It's not the first time this freak has shown up. GCPD has been tracking him but nothing was said until they were sure it wasn't you or one of ours.” Dick sighed. “Keep watching, there's another three videos on that disk.”

The second was a nightclub and immediately Bruce knew what was going to happen as soon as he recognized the dim lights surrounded by a cloud of cigar and cigarette smoke. It was a local spot for the up and coming Mancini mob family, one he'd been keeping an eye on until he'd heard about a gas leak that caused an explosion and killed everyone inside.

“This is the earliest activity we've been able to find of him.” Dick explained as he waved his hands toward the screen.

Bruce's blue eyes darkened as he recognized the man in the same outfit saunter into the club and head straight for the kitchen in the back. The hostess yelled something unintelligible at him, causing the black haired man to flip her off as he walked by her, though not once did he face the camera. Just like in the bank, the video only caught his back so far.

The screen immediately jumped to another camera view where the man walked over to the gas stove. He got down on his knees and then after a moment he stood and walked out of view. The next shot was of the man walking toward the back exit, his red helmet on so that once more his face wasn't captured. After ten seconds he saw another card board sign with the words: Death Is Coming For Gotham's Scourge and then the screen turned black.

“The security company downloads the video off sight and they just barely got this to us today.” Dick sighed. “We've been having them comb over the weeks prior to see if he worked there, but so far we've found nothing. We simply assume he was a new-hire who was interviewed off site.”

“Since most people are recommended into mob jobs it makes sense.” Bruce frowned. He waited patiently for the third video to start playing. “Do we see his face in this one?”

“Sort of.” Dick frowned.

At first, Bruce couldn't tell what he was looking at until he realized it was from a body camera. A beat cop was chasing the man in the leather jacket in broad daylight. They were running through one of the larger city parks, dodging and ducking past people, benches, dogs and hedges. For being a taller, larger man, the suspect was quite agile and acrobatic. It was no wonder the cop was having a hard time keeping up.

Finally, after leading the cop under a bridge, he stopped running abruptly and turned to face the man. It was so unexpected that the cop ran right into the man who Bruce could now see was wearing some kind of body armor beneath a gray t-shirt. The cop didn't step back which meant Bruce only saw the man's chest and a brief glimpse of his chin.

After a few seconds the man pulled a gun and shot at the office her who fell backward. Bruce was ready and paused the video just as the man's face came into view. The face was partially obscured by a red domino mask, much like the ones his own Robin's wore and what Nightwing currently wore. The image was also blurred which prevented any recognition of the rest of his face. Sort of was a perfect answer to his question. He was about to look away when he saw a sign was held up to the body camera. No Blind Eyes For Gotham's Corrupt.

“Do we know why he killed the cop? Why he thought he was corrupt?”

“Yeah, and this guy's definitely a murderous vigilante, Bruce.” Dick nodded. “The cop had just been turned in anonymously for keeping and distributing child pornography. They were just starting to set up an investigation when he was killed. They hadn't even had a chance to call him in.”

“Have they found any more evidence to back up those charges?” Bruce questioned immediately as he started the third video over again.

“Actually, yes. Too much for it to be a frame job,” The first boy wonder went to a chair across from his desk and plopped down in it, exhausted and stressed out. “This is bad Bruce, real bad. We can't have a vigilante running around that kills people, especially cops. It's going to put the rest of us in danger.”

Bruce heaved a sigh and nodded. He agreed with Dick completely. If criminals feared that they would simply be gunned down they were going to start shooting at them first. Even the most masterfully trained couldn't dodge every bullet. Eventually one was going to hit it's target and it would be game over. He couldn't let that happen to his boys. He'd already lost one, he refused to lose anyone else.

He looked back to his laptop and then waited for the fourth video to begin. From his peripherals he noticed Dick's frown deepen. Whatever had caused Bruce's premonition of dread was coming quickly and it was effecting his ward as well. He braced himself for something Joker-ish and prepared for the worst since it was usually the Joker that inspired this kind of dread.  
Immediately Bruce saw that this was one of the new city cameras that had been installed in the Burrows to help police identify criminals in an area no one was willing to talk to them in. They had been installed secretly so that they wouldn't be destroyed and so far they had been doing their job perfectly. Police needed help from Batman less and less when it came to gathering evidence against muggers, gang bangers and even a few rapists.

According to the camera it was four am on December second, just two days ago. A man was dragging a younger, smaller person into a corner. It was hard to tell the gender since the smaller person was fighting with everything they had, but the attacker was holding a firm grip with one hand in their hair and the other snaked around their waist.

Bruce's stomach flipped as realized the that victim was a child, possibly no older than thirteen. He pushed away his own moral outrage and forced himself to look at it with the cold insensitivity of an analyst searching for clues.

The man looked up as the kid stilled their fighting. They were both staring right toward the camera. The assailant appeared to laugh and then bit his victim painfully in the cheek. Just as the rapist started to pull down the waist band of the pre-teen, his face contorted in pain. He let go of his victim and grabbed his left shoulder where a bullet had just ripped through it.

The next view showed the man running only to be grabbed and tossed into the snowy ground by the enraged vigilante. He pulled a knife from a belt strapped around his thigh and approached the trembling would be rapist. He dropped down on his haunches and played with the knife, saying something inaudible, all the while the rapist stared fearfully at the blade.  
Bruce watched in both horror and satisfaction as the vigilante attacked and quickly ripped the pants off his victim and castrated him with the knife. The man screamed as tears ran down his face but his punishment didn't end there. The masked man stabbed and beat the rapist for nearly fifteen minutes as he bled out from the wound before he finally took his blade and cut his throat open. The man tried to keep the blood from rushing out, terror seen in his face and his posture as he realized he was dying.

The screen went black and he couldn't help but be relieved until he realized the counter still had another thirty seconds. Black was replaced with an image of the dead man with a cardboard sign that read: Gotham Will Suffer The Filth No Longer! The Red Hood.

“The Red Hood?” Bruce blinked and shook his head. “Who would call themselves that?” He looked to Dick and saw that he seemed just as disturbed by the use of one of Joker's monickers.

“Who would even know that history?”

Dick shrugged and turned to face the fireplace. “It's why I brought it here. I don't know if this is a sick new game the Joker's playing or if it's some warped cop who's finally had enough. The Joker did tell you the last time you saw him that he should give crime fighting a go.”

Shaking his head Bruce joined Dick in front of the fireplace. “No, it's not the Joker. There was anger in the posture of this 'Hood' character. He wasn't just killing them, he was punishing them.”

“Punishment?” Dick frowned. “So he's made himself judge, jury and executioner?”

“Exactly.” Bruce confirmed. “The fourth video gave us one clue as to the identity of who he is.”

“You think he was a victim of rape.” His ward pointed out.

“Yes. That wasn't just punishment taking place in the fourth video. It was vengeance and it was far more brutal and drawn out to be anything less than personal.”

“It's going to take a long time to narrow down the results of known rape victims in the Burrows and that's not even counting the ones who ended up not pressing charges.”

Bruce was silent for a moment as he considered his first Robin's point. He pressed the com link in his ear. “Robin, return to base immediately.” He frowned as he waited for a response. “Robin, do you copy?” Again there was no answer. “Alfred, when and where did Robin last check in?”

“His last location was Crime Alley two hours ago.” Alfred responded.

“Crime Alley, two hours.” Bruce repeated. “Thank's Alfred. Dick-”

“I know, Bruce, I'll head out now.”


	2. Stay Out of My Way

Chapter 2

December 4th

 

Robin stared up at the sliver of a quarter moon as he tried to keep his breathing calm. His body shivered, which he knew was a good thing. It would be even better if he could actually get up out of the snow and prevent hypothermia. He had tried to call for help several times from his com link, but something was wrong and his head was just to fuzzy to figure out what it was.

“Un-fucking-believable.” He tried to place the voice but it didn't even sound Human thanks to the voice modifier the man was using. He knew what that meant; either a superhero or a super villain had found him. Normal criminals and cops just didn't worry about people recognizing their voice. It was even more likely to a be a villain because he only knew of a couple superheros who used the modifiers and there was no way they were in Gotham.

He looked up and around trying to stop the splitting ache in his head, but all he could see were the stars and moon above him. Over and over he tried to recall what put him in this position, but his memory would not return, telling him his brain was actually damaged or there was nothing to remember because he'd been struck unexpectedly.

“The trap wasn't meant for you, Drake.” The electronic voice said with a distinct sneer emphasized on his name.

“Please,” Tim managed to rasp out.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Robin was taken by surprise as he was lifted into the air, but he still couldn't feel anything. He could however see a man in a dark brown leather jacket with a red hoodie zipped up the front. He was wearing the hood, but there was also a red shiny helmet on preventing him from seeing his face.

“....Toss your ass...rooftop.” He could barely make out the words, but he knew they weren't good as he suddenly felt weightless. His heart raced beneath his chest as he fell through the air, the sky getting further away.

He landed far more abruptly than expected. He stared in disbelief at the red hooded figure standing on ledge just a floor above him. Once more he knew he was staring up from a thick bed of snow, only this time he wasn't sure if he was shivering anymore. Everything was getting hazier and he felt sleep tugging at his eyes. He wanted to be afraid and he wanted to fight, but in the end he realized he just didn't care anymore. Was this hypothermia or a brain injury? Again, he wasn't sure he cared.

* * *

Nightwing landed on the slippery roof and checked his tracking device again. He was definitely on the right rooftop. Robin's signal was close and hopefully that meant Robin was with it. He tried not to panic and told himself that the boy's comm link was damaged. It wouldn't do any good to get himself worked up, but watching those videos again gave him a sinking feeling.

Would this Red Hood guy be an enemy? Would he attack them? In all fairness the guy might just be trying to help in an insanely brutal way. True they needed to capture him as soon as possible but he didn't necessarily know that, right?

He walked toward the opposite ledge, following the direction that Robin's tracking device was signaling him from. It had just registered to him that there was blood beneath his feet when he found himself sliding on the slick surface. He managed, though just barely, to regain his footing as he stared down at an insane amount of blood that was just starting to freeze. No one could survive this kind of blood loss.

When he found himself on the opposite ledge he took a deep breath and looked over. Relief flooded him as he saw Robin laying in the snow, shivering and staring up at the sky with an occasional blink. There was a bit of blood near his head, but it wasn't enough to alarm Nightwing any further. He jumped down and did a quick check up on the current Boy Wonder.

“Batman, yeah I have him. Send the Batwing to get us. He has a head injury and I think he's suffering from hypothermia.” He paused as he listened for a moment. “No. Just him, however there is a massive amount of blood on a roof just above him. Yeah, I'll get a few samples. Hurry, though, he's freezing, B.”

Nightwing leaped onto the roof above them and quickly gathered four samples. He'd just made it back to Robin when the Batwing came to a stop, hovering above them. He gathered the smaller teenager into his arms and used the grappling hook to pull them both into the aircraft. He was just about to get into the pilot seat when he noticed red writing in the snow on the lower roof a few feet from where Robin had been.

STAY OUT OF MY WAY.

* * *

Bruce Wayne stared at his computer, a stern look on his face, even in it's doubting expression. He ran all four samples twice and all four came back with the same result. Harvey Dent. Two-Face. Could he actually be dead? He didn't doubt Dick's observation but even a small amount of blood could look like much more than it was.

The real question on his mind was where was the body? If he was still alive they needed to rescue him. They couldn't just let this masked lunatic start killing every criminal in Gotham. He didn't like this new vigilante's style. Bruce looked at his cast and glared resentfully. He especially didn't like the idea of sending Nightwing on his own to handle him, either.

He looked over to the injured form of Tim Drake. He was going to make a full recovery but it was a close call tonight. After thinking so much about Jason earlier this evening he felt sick to his stomach at the idea of losing anyone else. No. He couldn't send Dick out to face whoever this madman was. If Two-Face died, than so be it, but he would not send anyone out in his place for the monster.

“Hey Bruce, have you figured out who it was?”

“All four samples were the same. Harvey Dent.” Bruce answered. He couldn't help but notice the look on Dick's face.

The boy wasn't normally one to find satisfaction at anyone's potential demise, but then Two-Face had nearly killed him years ago. Once again Bruce found himself wondering if he was making a mistake. If he let Two-Face die, what kind of effect would it have on Dick, but then if he sent him out to rescue him, would that be just as damaging?

“So he's dead?”

“It's a highly probable.” Bruce answered indifferently. “Though we've yet to find a sign.”

“Should,” He saw the doubt in the young man's soft blue eyes. “Should I find out for sure? I mean if there's even the slightest chance he's alive shouldn't we be trying to save him?”

“Yes.” Bruce answered. “But,”

“But we're not going to.” Dick frowned, his face contorted between relief and disappointment.

“It's too dangerous to send you out there alone and I will be of no use with my arm in this cast.” Bruce tried to explain but he could see that it changed nothing for the young man. He was just as confused about what the right thing to do was as Bruce. “It's safest to let this one go, Dick.”

“Obviously it's safest, B, but is it the right thing to do?” Dick countered. “If we didn't go out for fear of being harmed, we'd never patrol the streets again.” Before Bruce could respond Dick raised his hands. “No. We both know I need to be out there because if you weren't injured, you would be out there. Let me do my job.”

“Reconnaissance until I say otherwise.” Bruce agreed.

“On it, Big Guy, I'll check in every hour.”

“Every half hour.”

“Every half-hour.” Dick caved with a smile.

* * *

 

Dick found nothing that night. There was no sign of Two-Face or his captor. Word on the street was that The Red Hood had a beef with him and took him out. Even Dent's thugs believed he was dead. They were so sure of it in fact that they were getting ready to go to war with whoever it was that took him out and despite many claiming it was the new red masked vigilante, his gang believed wholeheartedly that it was the work of Joker and Harley Quinn.

Nightwing interrogated them, trying to find out why they believed the Clown and his bimbo side-kick were responsible. All he got out of them was that one of Harvey's old lawyer buddies had it on good authority that The Red Hood was a previous alias of the Joker. Of course none would tell him who this lawyer friend was.

Naturally, he locked up the thugs and continued his search for The Red Hood or Two-Face but found nothing. Even after doubling back he found that the snow now covered the large words that had warned Robin away. The blood was frozen to the roof under at least an inch of snow and to be honest, it had been a little too dangerous for the acrobat to go running and leaping off of buildings in the heavy snow fall and freezing temperatures.

When all was said and done, he returned to the Bat Cave no worse for wear. He couldn't help but smile at Bruce's relieved face or at Tim who was just waking up and was completely wrapped in blankets and surrounded by space heaters. Alfred came down with some hot chocolate for everyone; extra marshmallows to sooth Dick's sweet tooth.

Despite all that had happened, Dick didn't see that night as a complete failure. He and the big guy might not always get along, but he was always grateful for some quality with him. Especially if Al and Tim were there, too. It felt like family and most importantly, it felt like home.

 

 


	3. One City Safer

Chapter 3

 

Two Days Later – December 6th

 

Entering his Gotham apartment, Dick immediately knew that something was off. His place was a sty, but that didn't mean he didn't know where everything was. He scanned the living area and kitchen for any intruders thanks to a semi-open floor plan and found no one was there. He pulled his side-arm and let his police training kick in as he swept the hallway, bathroom and master bedroom of any trespasser.

When he was certain all was clear he let his guard down just a little as he went back to the living room to pin point what had caused his unease. It didn't take long. An envelope was taped to his television screen with Nightwing written in clear cursive lettering. It was masculine, but still formal and even a tad bit fancy. He didn't know many uneducated people who could even write in cursive anymore.

He plucked the note from his television and turned it over to see how the white envelope was sealed. He was hoping for some kind of insignia or even a wax seal so that he could narrow down some suspects but to his dismay it was simply taped closed. He pulled out the letter and found the same neat and tidy cursive filling the one folded page. It read:

_Not everyone can live under the weight of the Bat's pious and self-righteous ego. Particularly the citizens of Gotham City. The time has come for the innocents of this city to look to a new guardian; one that won't let them down; one that won't allow the lives of scumbags to be held above their own._

_You have but three choices Nightwing and all three will have severe consequences, but alas a decision must be made._

  1. _You can join me and help me clear this city of the death-worshipping garbage that is trying to tear it apart. We can kill off the worst of the worst and I promise you the rest will fall in line._

  2. _You can stay with Batman and make me your enemy; fight me at every turn along with with racing me to see who will get to the scumbag first._

  3. _The final choice is to simply stay out of the way; to step back and let a real hero come in and protect this city and her citizens from the men and women who stop at nothing to bring them misery, despair and death._




_Don't make the wrong choice, Dick, because I will end anyone who gets in my way. It's as they say; you're either with me or against me and I just don't have the time to be fighting you every night. Choose either of the last two options listed and just know that I will shoot to kill. I won't hesitate to end you if you try to prevent me from doing what I need to do._

_I'll know what your answer is based on how you deal with the next bit of information I will share with you. Harvey Dent, a.k.a. Two-Face, is being held in a storage shed atop Ace Chemicals. If you leave him alone, he'll die and I'll know that you are picking option three. Save him or have Batman, Robin or any other of your 'Super' friends save him and I'll know you've picked option two. Go to him and put him out of his misery and I'll know you're ready to join me._

_Keep this is in mind when you make your choice Nightwing; for everyone of these super-villains that we don't put down, they will kill at least five more people. Those five people will have done nothing to deserve this and their families will have no comfort from the idea that the monsters will escape within a few months for us to chase later. It's a circle, Dick, a circle that we perpetuate when we refuse to think of their future victims._

_Don't let anyone else be a victim of Bruce Wayne's 'moral code'._

_The Red Hood_

 

Dick felt his hands shake as he read the letter. There were so many questions, specifically who was this guy and how did he know his and Bruce's identities? Still, he had to move fast, he had to think even faster. Harvey Dent was dying in a storage shed and if he didn't make a choice, the choice would be taken from him. At first, his decision was obvious. He quickly changed into his Nightwing suit and opened the vent that would allow him to grapple from his apartment to the rooftop. He had to rescue Harvey Dent and alert Batman to what he'd found.

He was approaching the grate when a gnawing feeling hit the pit of his stomach and he couldn't believe he was stalling himself. He stared at the grate just waiting to be opened. What if this Hood guy was right? No. No that was just crazy talk. He pulled the grate open and within seconds he was on top of the roof, looking out over the city.

He ran across the snow and took a reckless leap off the building before firing his grappling gun at another rooftop. He swung himself through the city, being a tad more careful with the slippery slopes since they were still covered in snow and ice. He kept himself focused on the weather, trying not to ask himself why he had yet to check in with Bruce about the letter he found.

Even as he headed for Ace chemicals he knew he was going to rescue Two-Face. It was the right thing to do. And yet, he wasn't sure it was what he wanted to do. Two-Face wasn't a petty criminal, he was a murderer and nothing the Red Hood had said about letting these masterminds loose was inaccurate. Now matter how often he, Robin or Batman chased after Two-Face, they could not say with any kind of certainty that the man wouldn't be able to kill again; nor could they promise he wouldn't escape Black Gate or Arkham Asylum.

He let the cold wind bite at his cheeks and lips as he tried to figure out what was truly right or wrong. It should have been simple, it should have been obvious, but the more he thought about the future victims as the Red Hood had instructed him to, the more he doubted his decision. What could he say to any families who lost loved ones to the mad lawyer? Sorry your son or daughter died but I can't let his death be on my conscience?

It didn't take long for him to arrive at his destination. He saw foot prints leading from the roof access door to a large storage shed; beside the foot prints was a bloody trail that made it clear The Red Hood had simply dragged his victim haphazardly to the hiding spot. He looked all around the shed to be sure that there were no booby traps and once he felt certain that everything was safe, he opened the double doors.

Harvey Dent's eyes looked up at him wearily. To Nightwing's shock, the man no longer looked so two faced. The right side, the normally unblemished side of Harvey's entire body was mutilated beyond recognition. It was as if he'd been dragged through the streets of Gotham. Flesh was hanging off his face, arm and leg; his entire body trembled violently from shock. If Dick didn't move fast, the man was going to be dead.

There was no more doubt in his heart. This was wrong, this was disgusting and horrifying. How could he have ever entertained the idea of working with such an inhumane monster? He saw no justice in what was done to Harvey over the past two days, just cruelty and torture.

Nightwing gently pressed the communication link in his ear. “Batman?” He heard a bit of static and what he was fairly certain was 'go ahead'. “Batman, I have located Two-Face on the rooftop of Ace Chemicals. He needs a medical chopper straightaway or he will be dead in minutes.”

“Poor choice, Grayson.” A mechanized voice responded. “Then again, I can't say I'm surprised since I knew you'd never let the Bat down.”

“Is this The Red Hood?” Nightwing demanded even though he already knew the answer.

“You're so painfully predictable.” The voice taunted in his ear. “You're no different than the old man. So set in your ways, so engrained to 'do what's right' that you've lost sight of what's right.”

“Look, I don't know who you are or how you know so much about us, but I will not let you do this. We'll stop you and you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

“Do you hear yourself? Haven't you given that same fucking speech to Two-Face?” The man mocked. “Let me show you just how powerless to stop me you really are, Dick.”

Nightwing's brows furrowed beneath his black domino mask as he scanned the surrounding buildings for any sign of The Hood. He saw nothing, he saw no one. Just as he took a step forward he heard the sound of a bullet tearing through flesh and the gurgling choke of Harvey Dent. The former lawyer brought up his mangled hand and tried to grab at his throat where he'd been shot. Nightwing knelt down to check the wound as a second bullet pierced the right side of Harvey's chest, barely missing the hero's hand.

“He's bleeding into his lungs now and there's nothing you can do to save him. I warned you there'd be dire consequences to making the wrong choice.” The Red Hood informed him. “But don't let that pretty little head of yours worry, you'll have another opportunity to see the light.”

“You son of a-” Dick tried to curse as he moved to cover Harvey's body by kneeling in front of him. He tried to compress the wound on his neck and now his chest, but it was doing little good.

“Ah-ah-ah. Language, Mr. Grayson. I'd hate for your mentor to think of less of you.” The voice ridiculed. “Consider this your final warning. If I see you, the Gordons, Drake or Bruce trying to take me down, I'll add you all to my ever growing list of kills.”

“Nightwing!” He heard the growl of Batman in his ear. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, B, I'm here. Did you hear any of that?” Dick asked.

“I heard it all, there's a medical chopper en-route to you now. It should be there any moment.” Batman responded. “Did you get a visual?”

“No, but the trajectory indicates that it most likely came from the building across the street.” Dick stated still doing his best to keep Harvey conscious. He frowned as he looked into the shed and saw yet another cardboard sign. One Less Lawyer, One Less Madman, One City Safer. TRH. The Hood had never intended to let Dick save him.

“F-fucking, masked f-reaks-” Harvey coughed and sputtered as he tried to curse the world in his final moments. He couldn't finish his sentence as he convulsed and coughed up blood all while choking before his body went limp.

“Nightwing?”

“He's gone, Batman.” Dick whispered in disbelief. “He's dead.”  


	4. There Ain't No Grave

Chapter 4

 

December 10th

 

“Master Bruce,”

“Not now, Alfred, please.” Bruce sighed as he started to climb the stairs for his bedroom.

“If not now, then when, Sir?” He paused at the angered and concerned tone in his oldest and dearest friend's voice. “You have to talk to someone about what happened tonight!”

Tired wasn't the right word for what Bruce felt, not even exhausted was an accurate enough description. Worn-out was close but it wasn't fancy enough. Whatever he was, he was definitely too much of it to argue; so instead of continuing up the stairs he turned to face Alfred and sat down on whichever step he was standing on.

“You have to tell them, Master Bruce.” If he didn't know better he'd think that there were tears in the old man's eyes. “You weren't nearly thrown by that brute, you fell, Sir.”

“Everything is going to be fine, Alfred, please follow my instructions and keep this to yourself.” Bruce hated taking that tone with the man who had stepped in to the role of both father and mother. He didn't like disrespecting him and he especially hated seeing that pained look in his eyes. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose wearily. “I will tell them, just not right now.”

The butler's face looked resigned to acceptance until his eyes narrowed and raised his chin. “If you think the scum of Gotham won't notice when you start faltering, you are lying to yourself. I saw what happened with my own eyes and I wouldn't be at all surprised if The Red Hood saw it as well. Do you really want one of your enemies, one of those hooligans to be the ones to point out to Master Grayson or Drake that something is wrong with you? Or are you waiting to be killed in front of them?”

He couldn't help but drop his jaw at the harsh, though softly spoken, words from Alfred. If he hadn't been right about him it would have been cause for a very rare but very ugly argument between the two. That he wasn't willing to stubbornly engage in a heated debate over the subject told him just how precisely true Alfred's concerns were.

“Give me some more time, Alfred, please. I promise I will tell them.” Bruce knew he was probably lying even as the words left his mouth, but part of him hoped that he wasn't. It was that hope that seemed to settle on the old butler who gave a polite nod. “Thank you, for looking out for me.”

“Of course, Sir. It's my pleasure.” Alfred smiled gently. “I'll take my leave, Sir. I'll wake you in eight hours. Until I come in to wake you, I request that you remain in bed.”

With a scarce but genuine smile, Bruce nodded. “Yes, Alfred.”

 

* * *

 

4 weeks later – January 13th

 

Dick sipped at his coffee with a frown, his eyes barely open and his entire body aching. He didn't know how he was going to survive the next few weeks. Between his day job, being Nightwing, trying to locate Victor Zsas and now constantly having to race The Red Hood to every criminal, Dick felt like he was starting to get stretched a little thin. The last four weeks had been brutal.

Not that he'd ever admit that to Bruce. If he did that, Bruce would try to lighten his load and he'd do that by leaving him out of the loop. He and Tim would take on the extra load to their already full plates and he couldn't let either try to take on more than they already had. It would get them killed by a thug or the serial killer calling himself Gotham's new protector.

“This seat taken, Officer?”

Dick looked up to see a tall young man with his own cup of coffee. Looking around he realized that all the seats were taken but the seat across from him. He shrugged and tried to sit up a little straighter. Maybe he could get this guy talking and it would help to wake him up, but the likely hood of that was pretty much zero. People in Gotham didn't talk to each other, especially in a coffee place.

“You alright?” The man asked to his surprise. “You look like you are about to fall out of your chair.”

He took a closer look and found himself blushing. The man was more than just a tall young man; he was exceptionally attractive. The tall, dark and handsome type with shaggy black hair that had a white streak running down his chin-length bangs. He had teal colored eyes that leaned closer to blue than green. He was dressed in dark wash jeans and wearing a black hoodie. The mud and concrete told him he was probably a construction worker, the scars on his hands and even one on his upper lip and eyebrow told him he might not be that good at his job.

“Oh, I'm, yeah I guess I just had a long night.” Dick answered sluggishly, even as he felt a small bit of adrenaline pulling him awake. He hadn't found himself attracted to another man in Gotham in years. “You fairing any better at this time of morning?”

“Morning?” The man chuckled softly. “Buddy it's nearly two o' clock in the afternoon.”

“What?” Dick frowned and looked at his watch. So it was. “Wow. I don't know how I made it this far.”

The younger man smiled at him and shook his head. “You probably shouldn't be driving, Officer,” he paused and leaned forward to read the name tag beneath Dick's shield. “Grayson.”

“Good thing my beat is the streets today.” He countered with a smile.

“You're walking the streets? You're going to get yourself killed. This is Gotham after all.” He laughed with a teasing smile.

“See I feel like I am at a complete disadvantage here. You know who I am and what I do but the only thing I know about you is that you drink coffee.” Dick flirted.

“All you have to do is ask, Officer.” The man smirked before taking a drink from his cup. “Besides, I only have your last name.”

Feeling much more awake now that he was on the hunt, Dick grinned. “What's your name?”

“My name's JT. Just moved here about three weeks ago.”

“You know a lot about this place for having just moved here three weeks ago.” Dick pointed out.

“I do have the news where I'm from.” JT laughed. “Everyone knows this place is dangerous. It's probably why this job pays so well. I was told by the foreman that they can't get anyone in Gotham to do the work and few are willing to come out.”

“What project are you guys working on?” Dick asked curiously.

JT leaned in as he looked around at them men and women surrounding them. He beckoned him with a wave of his hand so that their heads were close together. “We're rebuilding a small section in the burrows and installing cameras for the city.” He whispered softly.

“That's,” Dick smiled. “That's very noble work.”

“Noble my ass. At sixty bucks an hour per worker plus shift differential and hazard pay for those dangerous early morning hours, it's pure profit.” JT offered a wicked smile and took a drink of his coffee.“Well, I'm off work and need to get back to my hotel so I can get a shower. I stink to high heaven.”

Dick couldn't help but laugh at the man's words before he nodded and stood. “Well, I guess good luck to you. I assume you haven't found an apartment yet?”

“Nope, but I am staying in a pretty ritzy hotel until I can find an affordable place. You should come by when you get off shift. I'll give you a good reason to fall asleep on the job.” JT winked brazenly.

He felt his cheeks flush at the bold flirtation and found himself nodding while JT pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper before scribbling down the address and room number. Normally, Dick was smooth; Hell, he was usually the guy in command of these types of situations yet he found himself accepting the paper with not much more than a shy smile and nod of the head.

When he finally felt more put together to say something that wouldn't sound completely stupid, JT had left the coffee shop. He'd never been hit on like that before, well not without quickly asserting his own dominance and making it clear that he was the one in charge and he would be the one setting up the date or meeting.

As he stood to leave the coffee joint he realized he was being watched. He quickly scanned the shop again and felt relief flood his body when he saw Tim Drake approaching him. For some reason he'd thought that maybe this Red Hood guy had been tracking him. He did, after all, know his true identity.

“Hey, Dick.” Tim greeted. He pointed toward the exit and the two fell into step as they walked out of the shop together. “B thinks he might have a lead on the Red Hood's identity. After your date you should come by the manor and we'll see if this lead goes anywhere.”

“Who does he think it might be?” Dick asked.

“He hasn't told me yet.” Tim answered. “He's not doing well. I think he's starting to crack.”

Dick frowned but knew it was true. Over the past few months he'd noticed that their mentor seemed depressed. He had been reckless when he'd busted his arm three months ago, he'd been careless when The Red Hood had nearly thrown him from a roof top last month. It was as if he was no longer concerned with making it through the night anymore.

“We'll have to keep a close eye on him. You should contact Barbara and tell her to let us know when he's going out so that we can make sure we have his back.” Dick suggested. “He'll get through this, he'll just need us to look out for him until he does.”

“I hope you're right, Dick. I don't want to see what would happen to Gotham without him.”

* * *

“There ain't no grave can hold my body down. There ain't no grave can hold my body down.” The Red Hood sung to himself as he set up the sniper rifle. He took a drag from his cigarette before laying down in the snow with the butt of the gun resting against his right shoulder. He looked through the scope to find his target before taking another drag from his cigarette. “When I hear that trumpet sound, I'm 'onna rise right outta the ground. Ain't no grave can hold my body down.”

The target was laying on an opposite roof top faced away from him with his own high powered sniper rifle set up and aimed at Lucious Fox. Normally Deadshot was impossible to find, impossible to track and especially impossible to catch off guard. It wasn't luck that brought The Red Hood to this rooftop, it was intelligence and skill. He was, after all, the man who hired him to take out the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

One more deep drag off the cigarette before he stubbed it out in the snow. He looked back through the scope and aimed at the back of Deadshot's skull. If he got this shot off, it'd not only be a kill, but the bullet would go through his bionic eye as well and that would just be fucking awesome to brag about.

He placed his finger over the trigger. “I see a band of angels and they're coming after me.” He pulled back and watched as the man's head fell forward. He fired two more rounds into his back where he knew his lungs would be. “There ain't no grave can hold my body down.”

* * *

Dick's back violently met the wall as the younger man's strong hands sought purchase of his body. JT pressed against the officer, his thigh slipping into the valley between Dick's legs. His mouth opened in a soundless gasp as the other man's sharp teeth bit into the side of his neck. He moved his hands to remove JT's shirt; his fingers skimming over the grooves of the larger man's hard stomach.

He felt JT's weight crush into him as he kissed up his shoulder and neck until their lips finally met. As he expected, his bottom lip was bit painfully and yet all Dick could do was moan into the aggressive affections of his lover. He worked his own hands down the aggressor's abs until he found JT's belt loops on his jeans. He followed them to front where he quickly occupied himself with sliding his pants down all the while allowing JT to explore his own chest with his hungry mouth.

JT stepped out of his jeans once they fell to his feet and Dick felt a thrilling rush course through him as he was tossed from the wall to the king size bed to the side of them. Before he could blink he was pinned by the excited and assertive construction worker. He was trying to find an upper hand, but JT was all too aware of this and kept him off balance with hard bites and soft kisses. Dick was being stripped of his clothing as well until he was completely nude beneath the taller, heavier man, bite marks littered across his hips, stomach, chest, neck and jaw.

“Are you ready for me, Officer Grayson?” He breathed into his ear, his hands diving between their bodies as he knelt over him. He firmly grabbed hold of his length, smiling when Dick keened in pleasure, his hips rutting sub-consciously. “I know you're eager, but I really should prepare you first.”

Dick wrapped his arms around JT's neck while he kissed on him, not paying much attention to what the other man was doing after his member was released. It came as a surprise when he felt cool liquid sliding between his cheeks and probing fingers gently prodding at his hole. His ring reflexively tightened at first, but after some patient strokes, he felt his body relax just enough for his lover to press his index finger inside of him with the help of the lubrication.

Dick moaned into the kiss as he bucked instinctively at the invading digit, causing JT to smile. He continued to finger him until he was able to slide a second finger in, once more bringing out another cry of pleasure from Dick's lips. He grabbed hold of JT's face and looked into his beautiful eyes before kissing him hungrily while the man's fingers continued to drive him wild.

“Mmm, someone's eager for me.” JT's deep voice rumbled into Dick's mouth. “Patience, Officer, I'll give you everything you need.”

The construction worker removed his hands, leaving Dick empty and biting at his lips in retaliation. Soft chuckling made him shiver and then he cried out again as he felt the tip of JT's member shove into him. He clung to him, preventing any further penetration as he forced JT to give him time to adjust to the thick shaft.

Impatience, it turned out, wasn't just a flaw of Dick's but of his younger lover as well. His brows furrowed as he started to slide forward, using his superior position and weight to get deeper inside of him despite the officer clinging to him to prevent him from moving too fast inside of him.

Dick gave up any further attempts at slowing him down once the laborer buried himself completely within. He barely had time to take a breath before JT began fucking him with fevered abandon, the tip of his head hitting the sweet spot every other thrust. He couldn't keep up with the younger, heavier man and found himself simply closing his eyes and enjoying the brutal worshiping his body received.

“Oh, fuck, you are so damned tight Grayson.” JT breathed as he continued to grind his hips forward. He reached back and grabbed hold of the cop's ankles and brought them forward until he had them pinned to either side of his head on the bed. In this position he found he was able to get much deeper and far more accurate when trying to hit that bundle of nerves.

The begging and whimpering coming from his own mouth was foreign to Dick. No one had ever fucked him like this and yet he couldn't get enough as he encouraged his partner vocally. The pain and the pleasure were burning inside of him, making him feel like his entire body was going to fly apart and yet the much needed implosion of energy evaded him even with such a masterful fucking.

“I'm so close, so close.” Dick squeezed his eyes shut as he clenched and squeezed at the man inside him.

JT trembled as he felt those muscles tighten all around him. He leaned forward a little further and caught Dick's lip in his own and then slowed his strokes down until the man beneath him was a quivering mess, begging and yearning for release. He slowly picked up speed to the praising cries of his lover.

“Hold your ankles.” Dick was ordered, to which he quickly complied. He felt the other man's calloused hands hold his thighs down to keep him bent in half as he increased the speed of his thrusts. “It's obscene how flexible you are.” He heard him growl in his ear which was immediately followed by a harsh bite to the side of his throat.

“Oh God! I'm going to cum!” He warned before he felt his entire body tense up. He released his ankles and wrapped his legs around his lover, his hands burying themselves in his thick black hair and tugging painfully. He gyrated against him, making sure they were both hitting a frenzied rhythm. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

With what almost sounded like a growl, JT spilled his seed inside of him, the freshly lubricated hole allowing him to move even faster. Dick clenched his teeth as two more strokes left him bucking wildly as his body began to spasm and he released his own load of semen on his and his lover's stomach and chest.

Heavy breathing was the only sound that filled the room for several minutes. Dick blinked as he stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath. He'd never, ever been fucked like that and he couldn't believe he'd enjoyed it as much as he had. It wasn't that men couldn't get rough with him, but Dick had rarely allowed anyone to really get down and dirty with him. He'd almost always been the top and it was always short and sweet to prevent any kind of attachment from forming. Sloppy and lazy were the two words he'd often used to describe his encounters with men, but this was neither.

“You wanna stick around for another round later tonight?” JT panted softly.

“Actually, I have a meeting to get to. Mandatory.” Dick answered without hesitation.

“What about after? You could come back and we could try some new positions, maybe get a little rough.”

“Isn't that what we just did?” Dick laughed.

“Baby, if you think that was rough, you've got a hell of a lot more to learn.” He flashed a dazzling though mischievous smile that had him tempted to skip the meeting with Tim and Bruce.

Dick forced himself to sit up on the bed as he looked around for a towel or something to quickly clean up with. His eyes were pulled back to the naked form of JT and he was immediately struck by what he saw. The man had perfectly sculpted muscles, a long torso and a body that he could personally attest to being powerful and highly skilled; though none of that kept him from noticing the mess of scars that were dispersed all over him. Some were thick, most looking like an inch to two inch gashes.

“What happened?”

“You just got your mind blown by incredible sex.” JT laughed as he rolled off the bed and headed into his bathroom.

“I'm talking about your scars. What happened to you?” Dick expanded.

The laborer returned from the bathroom with two towels. He shrugged casually. “Had a rough childhood, abusive father and all. Got beat up pretty good when I was about fifteen. I died briefly from it, or so I was told.”

Dick's baby blue eyes softened as he stood up and took the offered towel and tossed it on the bed. He reached up and pulled the larger man into his arms and hugged him. He couldn't help it, touch was how he conveyed everything from happiness to sorrow. It was how he had always been and it had been something that people either love or hated about him.

“Hey, whoa!” JT blushed and pushed him gently away. “Easy there, Grayson. You don't need to Mom me. Besides, I see you have quite a few scars yourself.”

“It's Dick, and sorry about that. I just...” He shrugged and waved his arms around to encompass what he was trying to say.

“You have a soft, nurturing nature.” JT nodded. “I get it, but I don't need any of it. I like to fuck, I like to fuck hard and I'm not looking for someone to hold me at night.”

“So that's all this was? Just a quick lay?” Dick asked, not really sure if that bothered him or not.

“Well, I mean, I don't mind making a habit of it,” He grinned widely. “but I think we both know that neither of us are looking for someone to walk around the boardwalk hand in hand with.”

“So more like friends with benefits?”

“What the matter, Dick? You only swear when you're bent over?” JT teased as he used the towel to wipe himself off.

“I try not to swear at all.” Dick could see that he wanted to say something to that, but in the end he must have changed his mind because he just laughed and shook his head. “You mind if I borrow your shower before I head off?”

“Only if you'll let me join you.”

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea.” Dick shook his head.

“Come on. What time is your meeting?”

“Nine o'clock.” He answered.

“Then I promise I'll have you out of here by eight-fifteen.” JT responded. “It's not like I can get hard that fast anyhow.”

“Then why shower with me?”

“This way we can scrub eachother's backs.” JT winked.

“Well,” Dick bit at his bottom lip and winced from how tender it felt. “I suppose if I'm out of here by no later than eight-thirty I could get there in plenty of time.”

 


	5. Leads Lost

Chapter 5

January 13th

22:21 hrs

 

Tim's steel blue eyes narrowed as Dick entered the study where he and Bruce had been waiting for over an hour. It didn't go beyond either man's notice that Dick was freshly showered thought still wearing his GCPD uniform.“You went to that guy's hotel room, didn't you? The one from the coffee shop earlier this afternoon!” It was by far more of an accusation then a question.

“You did what?” Bruce frowned with obvious disappointment.

The first boy wonder rolled his baby blues and didn't bother answering the question. Instead he looked to the folders on Bruce's desk. “So who are you thinking The Red Hood is?”

“You can't be that reckless! You know I was joking when I said you should come by after your date, don't you?” Tim snapped, ignoring his question and interrupting before Bruce could be side-tracked. “You didn't even know him! Did you use protection?”

“Hey you know what, I don't discuss your sex life with Bruce around and I'd appreciate that same courtesy.” Dick returned irritably. “Besides, I don't owe you any kind of explanation.”

“Enough you two.” Bruce growled in his Batman voice. He stood from his desk and focused his intense gaze on his oldest ward. “Dick-

“Don't even think about it. You sleep with all kinds of women to keep up this playboy billionaire act of yours; you do not have the right to lecture me about my sex life. Not to mention, unlike Drake, I'm an adult and can literally DO whoever and whatever I want.” Grayson stated firmly. “Now seriously, lets get to the point of this meeting.”

Both Tim and Bruce were silent for a moment as they debated on whether or not they should let go. They each exchanged glances, but Bruce was the one in charge and after a scowl he seemed ready to move on. With that, the decision was made and Tim took a seat in front of Bruce's desk while his mentor returned to his own seat.

“My leads are both dead ends.” The big man frowned. “I had been considering both Dead Shot and Hush, however it turns out that Thomas Elliot's body was found late last night in a hotel room and Floyd Lawton was discovered on a roof top across from Wayne Enterprises. We know it was The Red Hood because he left a cardboard sign with each.”

“Wait, you mean to tell me that one of the greatest assassin's in the entire world was killed by this guy?” Dick frowned, his brows furrowed in frustration and disbelief. “He was second only to Deathstroke. How was he killed?”

“That's where it gets a bit interesting.” Tim began. “Deadshot was getting ready to take out Lucious Fox when he was shot three times. Once in the back of the head and twice in the back; both lungs were struck. The second best assassin in the world was taken out by a sniper rifle of the exact same caliber as the one he used.”

“Which is why I am beginning to consider Slade Wilson as the next likeliest suspect.” Their mentor announced gravely.

Dick sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “It makes perfect sense now that I think about it.” He walked over to the seat beside Tim and plopped down as he put his head in his hands. “He knows our identities, he tries to get me to join him, he threatens to take us all out if we interfere and he's only going after the worst of the worst so far.”

“It doesn't completely add up.” Drake disagreed. “The man in the videos was acting with passion and conviction. Sure the first two videos he seemed pretty calm and efficient but the last two weren't quite right for the mercenary. He was angry with the cop and enraged by the rapist. The last two victims were personal, very personal and that just doesn't seem like Slade Wilson.”

Silence filled the air as tension built up. In this arena, Bruce was aware that Dick knew Slade Wilson best. As he'd pointed out, Slade had tried on multiple occasions to take him on as his apprentice. Then again, Tim was coming from an unbiased perspective. Neither spoke further, however, without Bruce offering his own opinion or agreeing with one of the boys where they clearly disagreed.

Dick started to bite at his lower lip until he winced in pain from the bruise left behind by his lover. He couldn't help but blush as he felt two sets of blue eyes focus on him. He really hated being observed and yet he knew that to resist would only cause further scrutiny, so he simply pulled his head up and leaned back into his chair and face them each.

“What if we're not dealing with one Red Hood?” Dick suggested. “What if there's more than one?”

“You believe the first could be Slade and someone else could be the second.” Bruce stated.

“Yeah. I mean, he might have finally found an apprentice.” He nodded.

“But where's the profit?” Tim asked his older brother directly. “Slade doesn't do anything without making money off of it. Who is paying him to kill off bad guys? Especially unknowns like the bank robbers and the rapist? Maybe he could have made money off the Mancini hit, but I doubt anyone would pay him to take out five bank robbers, a pedophile cop or a random rapist. Not to mention he's too expensive to be taking out petty criminals.”

“Well, than who do you think it is?” The elder brother growled.

“Easy, Dick. It's important to look at the whole picture. We have to make sure we don't jump to conclusions on this and I do see Tim's point.” Bruce's eyes moved to his youngest. “However, I also can see where Dick's apprentice theory may be right on track. Deadshot and Two-Face would have raked in a lot of cash for Deathstroke.

“It's entirely possible that the lesser criminals are just for practice. They could be stepping stones to learning how to kill more efficiently and with less emotion. If I were in such a business I think that's how I would do it as well.”

For a moment it seemed like Tim was ready to admit defeat and then he shook his head. “No. No you're wrong, you're both wrong. I'm sorry, but this isn't Deathstroke or an apprentice of his. It just doesn't add up. Deathstroke wouldn't leave messages about freeing Gotham or ending her suffering. It's not his style and you know it Dick.

“I think you want it to be him because at least then you would have a face to the devil. If it's really him, all you have to do is pay him off and maybe he'll go away. Well, I'm sorry but you're going to have to think of someone else. It's not Slade Wilson.”

* * *

Jason sat on the left side of his bed, his back leaning against the head board with his legs stretched and his ankles crossed in front of him. His left hand held his cigarette between two fingers while his right held the television remote. This week had been a good week. A busy week, but a good week none the less.

He deserved to relax and watch some mind-numbing television for an hour or so. He had earned the right to sit on his ass and smoke a few cigarettes, enjoy a cold beer and flip channels like every other working man did. It wasn't what he preferred to be doing, but he'd just have to wait to see if his Dickie-Bird returned tonight. He doubted it though, Dick would have to go on patrol with Drake and Bruce while they hunted down a man who was taking the night off.

A smile came to his face as he recalled his evening with Dick. He'd spent some considerable time with the older man and not once had recognition sparked in those bright blue eyes. It angered his ego and pride that he could be so easily forgotten even as it complimented his cunning and acting skills. He had to remind himself that he could walk up to the Bat and remove his hood and still not be recognized.

He'd just hit puberty when he last saw Bruce Wayne. He was tall sure, but he hadn't quite filled out yet, nor had he finished growing. His black hair was kept short in those days and he often did all he could to stay away from Bruce when they weren't in uniform. The man probably had an outdated picture, but even that wouldn't matter because his greatest disguise he had was his own death.

Even if Jason looked just as he did the day he left Bruce, even if he was still only five foot ten and weighing about a buck eighty with the same short black hair and clothing on, he would not be recognized. Bruce might think he'd seen a ghost and he might even acknowledge that he looked just like himself, but the knowledge that Jason Todd was dead would be enough for it to be a cruel coincidence. So now that he was a man of six feet and two hundred pounds with longer hair and a weird white streak through it, there was no chance of being seen as the six years dead teenager.

Vibrating pulled his attention from the screen in front of him and to the cell phone sitting on his night stand beside the ash tray. He watched as the number flashed across the screen and he couldn't help but grin. He rested the cigarette in the grooves of the ash tray and then picked up the phone. “Officer.”

 

 


	6. Another One Bites The Dust

Chapter 6

January 21st

 

Robin hit the ground hard, his radial snapped and his arm throbbing in pain. Harley took another over the shoulder swing at him with the monstrous mallet. He rolled quickly and got to his feet, his good arm throwing batarangs at the clown and his sidekick. It wasn't enough to stop them but it did prevent either of them from shooting or swinging at him again.

“Looks like you're getting warn out, Bat-Brat!” Harley laughed in her thick Jersey accent.

“I think he broke his wing, Harley.” The Joker said in a mockingly serious tone. “We'd best get that looked at.” The maniacal clown pointed his gun at the young man. “Come to your dear old Uncle J, I'll make it all better!”

While the clown ridiculed him, Robin was looking for an escape. They stood in the center of an abandoned hospital, in a reception area where there were no immediate exits or even windows. Even though it was dark with minimal flickering lights he might end up with a bullet in the back if he attempted to run. If he tried to face him with this kind of an injury he'd be dead or worse. Being captured by the Joker could definitely be a fate worse than death.

“Easy does it,” The Joker taunted as he continued his slow approach.

“You know, Kid, I'm getting a little sick of rescuing your ass from my own traps.” The familiar mechanized voice growled from behind the pair of villains.

“What the?” Harley turned to face the vigilante known as The Red Hood. “Who the Hell are you?”

“Most call me The Red Hood, but you'll know me only as Death.”

“Yeah right!” Harley laughed.

“You vigilantes are all the same.” The Joker added. “You're all ta-

He was cut short by the rapid fire of the Hood's two hand guns. He turned in surprise to see Harley on the ground, six bullets in her chest and stomach. Tears were filling her large eyes as she tried desperately to find him. She was coughing up blood and trying to reach up with her small hands to hold on to him. With morbid fascination he watched as she panicked, drowning in her own blood, her hands continuing to reach out, continuing to search. Her body convulsed and then her eyes became unfocused as the death rattle escaped her lips.

“You killed her!” Robin shouted as he came out of the shock. “You shot her!”

The Red Hood was taking aim at the Joker who was still staring down at the corpse of his constant and most loyal companion. Robin tackled The Red Hood, but not before the serial killer was able to get off two shots, one from each gun. He tried to keep an eye on the Joker but he was nowhere to be seen as the larger man bellowed in indignation and cracked him in the side of the head with the butt of his gun.

“You know something? I hate imitators.” Robin heard the sinister snarl of the Joker and he was too close for comfort. He tried to look around but the newest head injury and the darkness around him left him blinded to what was going on. Almost immediately after the Joker's comment a loud pop rang out followed by a grunt just above him. “I should put you down. Do to you what you did to poor Harley, but unlike you I know how to savor a moment.” Silence stilled the room breifly before the Joker continued. “You know, they do say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. Maybe I'll give you another audition, another chance to prove you're as worthy as the Bat.”

Groaning and grunting were heard now to the side of Robin but he still couldn't see what was going on. Joker must have hit the only light in the area before he went after The Hood. He could hear the steps of the Joker's shoes getting further away. “Don't disappoint, Hood.” He started to chuckle. “Next time the cuts are final.”

Trying to get up, Robin knew he'd have to move fast if he wanted to save The Hood from whatever injury the Joker had left him with. He was starting to crawl very slowly, cradling his bad arm to his stomach, to find a wall and then maybe a light. He ignored the groaning and grumbling coming from the injured murderer until he realized the sounds were coming from above him.

“You shouldn't move. You could be bleeding out.”

“Fuck you, Kid.” Despite the harsh mechanized voice, Robin couldn't help but find the man's words childish. “I'd apologize in advance for this, but I did warn all of you to stay out of my way and because you didn't listen, I got shot by the fucking Joker.”

“Wait, what?” Robin's heart stopped as felt a heavy boot pressing down on his back. He started to scramble only to feel something pierce the skin in the back of his neck.

* * *

 

“Tim, what happened?” The demanding growl of Batman was definitely not going to help his headache go away. He blinked and looked up to find himself in the bat cave laying on one of the gurneys.

“Harley, The Red Hood; he killed her!” Tim spoke quickly and then he recalled that the man was wounded. “There could still be blood, we could identify him! We have to go back!”

“No can do, Timmy.” Dick said from the other side of him. He crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke. “The building is still burning itself out.”

“What?”

“The Red Hood or Joker had the building rigged to some bombs. What's left of the building is currently burning thanks to whatever accelerant was used.” Batman explained.

“It was The Red Hood who set it up. When he came in he made a comment about saving me from his traps.” He informed them.

“Are you sure he was injured?” Dick asked.

“Not entirely. It was dark and even though I heard a gunshot, nothing is ever as it seems with the Joker.” Timothy sighed.

“This Red Hood is getting bolder. When Dick and I picked you up there was a cardboard sign on Harley's remains.” Batman went over to the computer and pulled up the image. The sign read: The Last Laugh Will Be Gotham's! TRH. “I think he intends to go after the Joker next, but this is where I think The Red Hood might be in over his head.”

“Unless it's Slade.” Dick shook his head. “The only thing that's kept him safe from Deathstroke is the fact that no one's paid him to take the clown out.”

It was evident that Timothy was about to go into a tirade against Dick and his theory, but Bruce intervened. “I have to admit that the theory that there are two men acting as the Red Hood is the most likely. Murderers and rapists are still dropping like flies, but the methods seem to be at odds with those used to take out these high profile criminals. We need to figure out the patterns.”

“There isn't a second Hood!” Tim insisted as he sat up from the gurney. “Think about it, Bruce, think about it from the perspective of what you, Dick and I do.

“If there's a big case, we take it on systematically and employ well planned strategies. We think things through and we strike when it's not only safest for us and any civillians, but when we have the highest chance of success.”

“What's your point?” Dick shrugged.

“If I'm on a stake out watching Penguin or Poison Ivy, but if a crime takes place only feet from where I am, what do I do?” Tim answered with a question of his own. Bruce seemed to follow his train of thought as his features hardened. “I stop it. I forget about my stake-out and protect the innocent that's in danger at that moment.”

“So you think this guy's simply getting distracted by lesser targets while he's working on taking down the likes of Two-Face?”

“Yes.” Tim nodded. “We have to stop looking at him only as a serial killer and a threat. We have to look at him like we would any other vigilante we've come across. He's not just some bad guy that we don't know. He's a hero, he going to act like every other hero we know. Some days we take on the monsters, but we also spend our nights patrolling and picking off the little guys, reminding the city that no crime is too big or too small for us to put a stop to. To a layman we seem to only have one job, put away bad guys, when we actually have two jobs. Solve cases and stop crimes. I think this guys does the same thing but in a far more brutal and final way.”

“He's in for a lethal shock if he thinks he can just take down the Joker.” Bruce frowned.

“I disagree there, too.” Tim argued. “I can't know for sure, but my gut tells me that had I not been their to mess up whatever his trap was, Joker would be as dead as Harley right now.”

“Yeah right, if we can't stop him, why would you think this guy can?”

“No, I suppose he could be right Dick. He can take on the Joker and win because he's willing to do what we aren't. His goal isn't to take him into custody, it's to kill him and that's far easier to achieve than what we attempt to do with him.” Bruce acknowledged with a firm voice. “I still don't know if I believe this is the work of one man, but I see what you are saying Drake and I'll consider it. For the time being, however, you're out of the field until that bone heals. Dick and I will continue to hunt down the Hood.”

Bruce suited up along with Dick. Barbara was running surveillance on all hospitals in Gotham for gun shot wounds. She even contacted a few well known vets who often received criminals at their doorsteps for emergency services and had them on alert. If The Red Hood was wounded and he tried to get professional help they'd know about it.

 


	7. Vodka, Bathtubs, & Hickeys

Chapter 7

January 21st

 

The wooden stake tasted terrible against his tongue, but he didn't dare remove the bullet without something to bite on. It wouldn't do to have neighbors complaining of a man screaming or shouting in pain. He sat in the empty bathtub of his hotel room and shifted carefully as he grabbed hold of the medical tweezers and clamp. He stared at the hole in his hip and took a deep breath, he'd already dumped vodka into the hemorrhaging wound, but he knew it wasn't nearly sterile enough.

Unfortunately when you were being hunted by the greatest detective in the United States, you couldn't just waltz into a hospital and get yourself treated. He might have risked a veterinarian if he didn't think they were completely incompetent. Besides, any of the good ones were probably being watched by Barbara. That meant it was just him, a bath tub and a few medical supplies.

Pressing the tweezers into the hole hurt, but the bullet lodged into his hip bone needed to be removed. Thankfully the Joker still used a twenty-two. When he wasn't ready to kill you, he just wanted you to feel pain and agony. He was nothing if not a sadist.

A lot of people insisted that he was all chaos and anarchy, that nothing he did was ever truly thought out but it just wasn't so. The most frightening thing about the Joker was how intelligent he was. He knew Human anatomy as well any doctor. He knew what would kill, what would maim and what would permanently disable someone. If Joker had wanted him dead or paralyzed the sad fact of the matter is that he would have succeeded.

He wasn't dead for any other reason than that the Joker was curious about him. He wanted to know who had the audacity to steal an old monicker from him and then try to take him out. He wanted to know what it was like to go head to head with a man who was willing to kill him instead of just dragging his homicidal ass to an insane asylum.

He held no delusions of grandeur, though. When Joker grew bored of him, an inevitability for anyone that wasn't Batman, he'd take him out and he'd do it in the most painfully cruel way possible. If he didn't move fast to take the deranged lunatic out he'd find himself in the role of prey. He couldn't let that happen, wouldn't let it happen. Allowing Joker to kill him wasn't something he was willing to do ever again. Not that he'd allowed the first time, but he certainly hadn't been able to stop it, either.

Grimacing as he shoved the tweezers deeper into the small hole, he forced himself to refocus on the task at hand. He bit harder into the wood as he dug around the injury, trying to find that stupid little bit of metal. Sweat was dripping down his nose and cheeks, a never ending supply beading along his hair line. He'd be a liar if he said there weren't a few tears running with those beads of sweat, too.

He was going to kill that homicidal nut job even if it was the last thing he did. Rage filled him as he gritted his teeth deeper into the stake, his eyes trying to see through flesh and bone as if he were some kind of Kryptonian. In the end, he found he had no need for the x-ray vision as he finally found the bullet. Now all he had to do was yank it out.

He spit the wood from his teeth after giving a very precise but strong pull. No major capillaries or veins were ruptured and to his great relief, there was minimal bleeding all things considered. He found himself ill at the thought of being thankful that the Joker knew exactly what he was doing.

He sat in the tub for several minutes as he panted from the exertion he'd just put his mind and body through. Reaching forward he grabbed the vodka and dumped more onto the wound before taking a few large gulps of the dry liquor. He knew it wasn't the brightest thing to do, but at least it helped quell the rage that was burning up inside of him. Otherwise, he might just get his ass out of the tub and go kill that damned replacement for fucking up all of his hard work.

For several minutes he stared up at the ceiling. It wasn't until his phone started vibrating on the tile floor beside him that he even bothered to blink. He dropped his arm and grabbed the cellular device. Normally he'd be happy to take a call from Dick, but at the moment he wasn't in a very 'JT' kind of mood. He was in a Red Hood mood and he doubted Dick wanted to deal with that side of his personality.

“Yeah?” He answered, surprising himself when he had just decided he would ignore the call.

“Hey, JT, I got off my shift early and figured I'd head up to see you.” He could hear his lover's smile through the phone. “You cool with me dropping by in about twenty minutes?”

“Of course.” Not! Of course NOT is what should have been said! It's not ok at all. How are you going to explain the blood, genius? Or the fucking bullet hole in your damned hip! He's a cop and masked detective, Moron, he'll recognize that type of injury immediately! “They're moving me to a different room though. The shower above me started leaking. I'll text you the new room number when I'm settled.”

“Great. I can't wait to see you.” Oh God, even on a booty call, Dick was as clingy as a teenage girl. “You're sure you're ok with this, right?” And as self-conscious as one.

“If I didn't want you to come around I'd tell you.” Liar! “See you soon.” He hung up the phone and looked around him. He was sitting in a bathtub, his shirt off and his pants resting well below his natural waist, with a bullet wound in his hip that he'd yet to stitch up and he'd just invited Officer Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson over to his hotel room.

Forcing himself to stand and get out of the tub, he walked out of the bedroom and over to the phone beside his bed and dialed the operator. “Yeah I'd like to get a room for the night. No I want to keep this one, too I just need a second room. Yeah, I'll hold.”

He glared at the trickle of blood that was running down his leg and into his jeans. He knew what he needed to do, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed a suitcase from under his bed and started rummaging through it. After a moment he found what he was looking for.

“The things I do for a quick fuck.” He muttered under his breath. “No I'm not talking to you. Just tell me what fucking room I'm in. Thank you!”He hung up the phone and stared at the knife in his hand. “Better get the iron ready first.”

* * *

 January 22nd 0015 hrs

 

Dick stood in the hotel lobby waiting for the text message that would tell him where to go. He knew he should be on stand by for Barbara to tell him about anyone who walked in for a bullet wound but he just refused to believe that The Red Hood would be that stupid. He'd taken out Harley Quinn, Two-Face, Hush and an entire family of mobsters without leaving anything for them to trace. There was no way he was going to admit himself into a hospital where any and all gun wounds would have to be reported to the police.

“Come on, it's been twenty-five minutes.” He said aloud, but to no one in particular. He had started to pace in the lobby which he knew was making the two receptionists nervous, but he couldn't help it. He had too much energy to burn and it was impossible for him to hold still.

As he was hoping that Barbara wouldn't call him with some lead to follow he finally received a text from JT that read: Penthouse, top floor. Pick up card from Julie the receptionist or elevator won't work.

He smiled at the message and walked up to the female receptionist. She and her male counterpart blushed as she handed him the key card. “Enjoy your night.” Now he was blushing, too. Just what had JT told her and why? Then again, Dick was used to being stared at and it might have nothing to do with his ill mannered lover.

He got into an elevator and passed his key card over a badge reader before selecting the top floor. After several stops on the way up and half of a Hall and Oates song later, he finally reached his destination. He didn't know why he was so nervous but he took a few calming breaths before knocking on the black door.

“Aww.” JT pouted as he opened the door and looked Dick over in his civies. “No uniform this time?”

He blinked in surprise as he stared at the nearly nude form of his younger, taller lover. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of black boxers and heavy bandaging around his waist. “What happened to you?”

“Work injury.” He shrugged as he moved aside for Dick to come in. “Some of the men who come on site are absolute fuck-tards and don't have a clue as to what the Hell they're doing.”

“How did you end up with the penthouse?” Dick asked, his tone a little more combative than he intended. He hoped he sounded incredulous but he could tell by the momentary glare that he had no such luck.

“Well at first I was going to let them put me in a room a floor or two above my original, but then I realized how fucking irate I'd get if I had to move again so I told them to stick me on the top floor.” Once again JT shrugged his muscular shoulders as he shut the door behind his guest.

“But how can you possibly afford this?” He pressed on despite a little voice telling him to let it go. Something about this situation didn't feel right and he'd been too well trained that he must get to the bottom of whatever was causing his unease. “You said you make sixty bucks an hour. Even at that salary this place would be too expensive.”

“Who said I made sixty bucks an hour?” JT tilted his head curiously while he grabbed hold of Dick's hips and brought him much closer.

“You did, at the coffee shop.”

“No, I said we get sixty bucks an hour per worker. My guys are only getting paid forty to forty-five.” He explained before bending down to nip at the officer's lower lip.

“Wait, your guys?” Dick shook his head as he tried to understand. He'd assumed from the get-go that JT was not only just a construction worker, but a construction worker who was at least couple years younger than him. “How old are you?”

“What does that matter?” JT frowned as he let go of him, his brows furrowing as his expression darkened in anger. “You suddenly have a problem with me?”

Shaking his head, Dick grabbed the other man's wrists. “No, no. I just, I'm confused is all. I thought you were just another crewman with your construction company, I didn't know you were a foreman. Especially since you had talked about a foreman when we first met.”

He hoped that all was forgiven when he didn't yank his arms away. If anything the man's face softened as his intense teal eyes took him in again. Dick shifted uncomfortably as he waited to find out if he would be allowed to stay, his erection pressing painfully against his own boxers and jeans. He'd never been so aroused by another man, especially one covered in scars and a thick bandage wrapped around his waist. To Hell with his instincts, he wanted JT.

The soft laughter escaping JT's lips was promising. “I'm not a foreman, Dick. Bennet Construction is mine.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “JT Bennet, Bennet Construction. It's a family business.” He took back one of his hands and ran it through his oily black hair. “I didn't think you'd be bothered by the money considering.”

“Considering what?” It was Dick's turn to frown as he heard what sounded like a negative tone in the other man's voice.

“Well it's not like you haven't spent the last few years with a silver spoon in your mouth. You are Bruce Wayne's ward after all.” He pointed out as he crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

“Its his money, not mine and I don't have a problem with you having money. “ Dick glared as he put a hand on his hip and gestured with the other. “What I have a problem with is you making it sound like it's something I should be ashamed of. You think I wouldn't trade every penny that's been given to me for one more day with my family?”

The laborer frowned as he quickly grabbed his lover; seemingly shocked by what Dick was implying of him. “That's not how I meant it. You were the one playing twenty questions with me about the penthouse. It just sounded like you were accusing me of something and I got defensive.” He quickly stole a kiss from the officer and then looked him in the eyes. “Let's just forgive and forget before my fucking balls explode.”

Rich laughter filled the air as Dick rolled his eyes at the unexpected confession. He wanted to be angry with the assumptive young man, but he could see where he had instigated things a bit himself. He leaned in and kissed his neck, hungrily, sucking on the skin until he was sure he'd left a nickle sized hickey.

“Shit!” JT cursed suddenly as he dropped his hands from Dick's waist and started groping himself for what he had assumed was his phone.

“Actually it's mine.” Dick frowned as he pulled the vibrating cellphone from his front pocket. He read the text message and prevented himself from sharing the same curse. “I'm sorry, but I'm being called into work.”

“Fucking Christ.” JT growled before grabbing him again and biting the officer's throat. “Your ass had better be back here as soon as you're off work. I don't let just anyone mark me and if I have to walk around with a love bite, so do you.”

“O-ok, “ Dick nodded with a blush. “I'll be back, promise.”

“Good. Don't get yourself killed thinking about me.” He grinned arrogantly as he walked Dick to the exit. “Keep the card, just make sure you text me so that I'm up when you get here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my shit art. If you can do better, please do, because seriously this is just sad...
> 
> http://thefightingbull.deviantart.com/art/Vodka-Bathtubs-and-Hickeys-663852370?ga_submit_new=10%3A1487229430


	8. From Capes and Hoods to Board Rooms and Contracts

Chapter 8

January 25th 2318hrs

 

Batman followed Michael Labrum through the construction site in the Burrows along the rooftops. It was a quarter past midnight and Mr. Labrum was to meet with a contact of Black Mask's to set up a weapons shipment. Normally, Nightwing or Robin would be sent on this kind of low-key reconnaissance but he had a gut feeling that The Red Hood would be showing up for this meeting as well. It was a long shot, but the man had been eerily quiet in the Burrows for the past three days; or anywhere in Gotham for that matter.

While Robin insisted that The Hood was just incapacitated by the injury Joker dealt him, Batman felt like he was understanding the serial killing crime-fighter more and more. He'd taken his partner's advice about approaching it as if he were one of them and he believed that The Red Hood would only rest the minimum amount of time necessary and then come back like a maelstrom; taking any criminal out that was unfortunate enough to be in close proximity. It's what he had done in the past; minus the killing of course.

He'd also started to notice that when Red Hood wasn't going after the bigger fish of Gotham's underground, he was almost always in the Burrows. The man knew the area well and had escaped his, Robin's and Nightwing's grasp more than once over the past couple of months by simply losing them. He knew all the hiding places and short-cuts. His knowledge of the area confirmed to Batman that his was definitely a local and not Slade Wilson. Now if only he could convince Nightwing.

“You Michael Labrum?” Batman watched as his lead approached another man.

“Yeah, I got the location. You got the cash?” Michael asked, he didn't seem near as nervous as Black Mask's contact did. Definitely an outsider. Only criminals from outside of Gotham doubted the stories of how dangerous the streets could be.

“Of course I do.” The contact snapped as he fished out a brown paper bag that was obviously wrapped around a few bundles of bills.

“The guns are being stored in the basement of that old Mortuary. The one Arkham Asylum used to use.” Michael explained as he took the money.

“Where?” The contact glared and then looked around briefly. “Where did you put them?”

“Arkham Mortuary, or whatever you guys call it. Why?”

Just as Batman was getting ready to pounce and call in the information he heard exasperated laughter and gloved hands clapping. “You really are dense, aren't you?” Feeling justified in his instincts, Batman watched as The Red Hood approached the two men from a few feet away. Tonight he sported the same leather coat as always, but this time there was no red hoodie, just the red helmet. “If it's in Arkham Mortuary, Black Mask can't get to it.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Michael demanded.

“Doesn't matter!” The Black Mask contact spat as he pulled out a gun and fired at Michael and then at The Red Hood. Michael dropped to the ground as The Red Hood dodged the shots. The contact was grabbing the envelope of money when Batman landed atop him, knocking him unconscious.

“Ready for another round, Batman, or do you need to call for back up?” The Caped Crusader barely had a chance to deflect The Red Hood's attack. “I'm thinking we should stay on the fucking ground this time. We wouldn't want you falling off the building again, now would we?”

Bruce seemed surprised by the comment as he blocked a few punches and moved to deliver a few of his own. He knew what The Hood was referring to, but he refused to vocally acknowledge it. All that mattered was taking this foul-mouthed murdered down. He moved away from two more punches before he ducked and evaded so that The Red Hood's back was to him.

It was as the vigilante turned, that Batman saw where he'd been hurt. The Hood's movements were stiff and it was obvious that he was pushing past pain to fight him. The awkwardness was coming from his hips, specifically his left side. He continued to move back, waiting for just the right moment to take advantage of his competitor's weakness.

Catching The Hood's next punch, he used his strength and the forward momentum to flip the man over his shoulder and threw him onto the ground. He kept hold of his arm as he slammed his own boot into the injured hip! A shout of pain followed by a stream of muttered expletives filled the cold night air.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” Batman growled fiercely as he pressed his boot harder into the man's side. “Surrender or I'll break your arm.”

“Fuck you, Old Man!” The Red Hood pulled a remote device from his jacket and pressed the button as high pitched beeping started to sound off.

Forced to let go of his prey, Batman looked toward the obnoxious sound where he saw the explosive just above the still unconscious Black Mask thug. He raced to the man as the beeping increased but was knocked back a couple inches as the bomb went off, no doubt killing the man that was now buried under a pile of scrap and rubble.

“You're getting slow in your old age.” The Red Hood chuckled as he appeared to be struggling to stay on his feet. “When are you gonna tell your little birdies what's wrong with you, Bruce.”

“Who are you?” Batman demanded as he turned to look over the younger vigilante.

“Trust me, knowing wouldn't change a fucking thing.” The Red Hood snarled. “Stay out of my way or next time I'll make sure the blast is strong enough to take your ass with it.”

“You think you're going to escape me, with that injury?”

“Yeah, I do. Know why? Because you've yet to take a single step toward me. You're dizzy, maybe even light-headed. Go home and leave the crime-fighting to me. Take your damned meds and if you get better, we can try this again on equal footing.”

Batman didn't have time to think or even react before The Red Hood threw down a smoke pellet and disappeared into the night. Disappointment and anger gnawed at him as he realized that he'd failed this night. Two men were dead, The Red Hood escaped and Alfred had been right about everything. He should have known that the criminal had noticed and if he noticed, who else had?

* * *

 

January 26th

 

Bruce Wayne sat in the board room, wearing an expensive black Armani three piece suit. Lucious Fox sat beside him going over the dossier on the young man he was about to meet with. There were a lot of better things he could be doing with his time but when it came to investing in charitable organizations in Gotham, Lucious often insisted on his presence.

“You don't have to look so stiff, Mr. Wayne.” Lucious chuckled. “From what I've been told the young man is no more thrilled to be meeting you, than you are him.”

“Why is that?” Bruce arched a brow, appearing insulted to most, but amused to Lucious.

“Verbatim?” Bruce nodded. “I believe his exact words were; 'I don't have time to kiss the ass of some billionaire who probably doesn't even know what a screw driver is for.' He's a bit uncouth, but his references are impeccable. So far the city has been quite pleased with his work in the Burrows and they'd like him to try to stay and finish the project.”

With a smile Bruce took the packet of information and skimmed over it. He couldn't really say he was surprised. The young man had a lot to prove and from what he'd been told and read of JT Bennet, he wasn't really shocked that the Bruce Wayne persona would rub him the wrong way. This was a working man who'd fought hard to keep the company in his own hands instead of being sold off to the highest bidder.

Personally, he liked these salt of the Earth types much better than the usual owners and CEO's that Lucious made him parade around for. The meetings were often short, amusing and easy to get out of. All he had to do was say something snobbish and ignorant and they left in hurry, making up some appointment or emergency that they needed to get to. It irritated Lucious, especially when it came to companies that he wanted to help or donate to, but it was one of the only ways he was able to have any real fun as Bruce Wayne.

A soft chime came through on the conference phone, followed by the voice of Lucious' receptionist. “Mr. Bennet has arrived to see you Mr. Fox, Mr. Wayne.”

Lucious pressed the small call button. “Send him in please, Diane. Thank you.”

Bruce knew the owner of Bennet Construction was young, but he had not expected someone who barely looked old enough to be of the legal drinking age. JT was dressed in a simple suit, black slacks, white dress shirt, black tie in a Windsor Knot and black blazer. His onyx and white streaked hair was slicked back with some kind of gel and combed out of his eyes and his face was clean shaven. He noticed a couple of small scars, one on his lip and the other in his right eyebrow.

“Hello, Mr. Bennet, I'm Bruce Wayne.” He stood and offered his hand to the young man as he tried to place the face. Something about him was quite familiar. “Have we met before?”

“No.” He said a little irritably and shook his offered hand firmly before taking a seat in the chair across from Lucious.

“I'm sorry, but is something wrong?” Bruce asked.

“Yes.” JT responded. “This city is a cesspool. I don't know if you've heard or not, but a small portion of my work site was blown up last night. Two men were found dead, one of them an employee of mine. Since five in the fucking morning I've been trying to help get this shit cleaned up by talking to developers, city officials and some asshole who insists I just give up.

“I've had to call Mrs. Labrum and explain to her that her husband was not only killed, but that it wasn't an industrial accident. He was found shot to death by what police tell me was some gun running scumbag. I still have to find twelve men to replace the ones that quit, convince investors that this isn't the end of the Burrows Reformation Project and in the middle of it all I get told by one of said investors that I have to meet with you or they'll pull their funding.”

Lucious shook his head and offered a quick apology but the young man didn't seem even the slightest bit placated. If anything, Bruce was sure he was even angrier than he had been when he walked through the door. His eyes shot to the clock. Less than five minutes; that had to be a new record and all he had done was introduce himself and asked him two very innocent questions. Though if Bruce was being fair, he had to admit that he'd never met with a man under such stressful circumstances.

“Do you always have others speak for you?” JT demanded.

Again, Lucious started to speak, but Bruce figured he could go a little easier on the young man. Something about him reminded him of himself and he didn't like the idea of antagonizing him when he probably felt like his world was falling apart around him. He knew that the kid was barely hanging on to the company with several invested banks insisting on him appointing a CEO with actual experience.

“I apologize, Mr. Bennet. You're right.” Bruce spoke up. “It wasn't my idea to meet with you at this difficult time either, but unfortunately we can't always call the shots. Even if our last names are on the letterhead.”

JT glared before a small smile managed to crack through the frustration. “It's a real bitch, ain't it? It's your name but rarely your choice. Who would have thought I'd ever have anything in common with Bruce Wayne?”

“Look, I get that you probably don't think much of me. I inherited my wealth and my company without having to work a single day. You inherited your company, but you actually work for your company as well and I respect that.” The billionaire acknowledged. “Lucious and I want to help make sure that this project is a success.”

“You're going to invest?” JT asked incredulously.

“If you're willing to accept, yes.” Lucious answered with a confident smile.

“So that's why they twisted my arm to get me in here.” JT smirked a little sheepishly. “Guess I shouldn't have thrown so much shit your way, Mr. Wayne. Anything you can do would really go a long way and I'm not so arrogant as to turn away a helping hand. ”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Bruce smiled as he stood. “I do hate to take off so suddenly, but my son Timothy, has a meeting with Dean Alvarez that I am required to attend. Good luck to you, Mr. Bennet, and I apologize for your loss.”

He reached over the table and shook hands before leaving the conference room. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed. “Barbara? I need you to check out a company for me. Yes. Bennet Construction.” He walked into his office and shut the door behind him as he spoke. “Lucious can't get access to anything that the company might be willfully hiding. No I don't think it's got anything to do with the case.

“I just want to make sure Black Mask isn't looking to ruin this kid. Whatever personal information you can get on him and his family would be helpful as well. Thanks, Barbara.”

 

* * *

 

Leaving Wayne Enterprises was as difficult as walking in had been. It had been bad enough that he was forced to play nice with men and women he hated while using the JT Bennet persona but he had never, ever intended to meet with Bruce. While he was certain he wouldn't be recognized he'd felt there was little reason to risk such an encounter.

To have to do it after getting injured had been way to risky for his comfort. If he'd allowed himself to limp or show any kind of over compensation for his wounded hip, Bruce would have been able to figure out he was The Red Hood at the very least. It wouldn't take long to do some digging and if his mind allowed it, for him to figure out his identity.

Still, he was rather impressed with himself as he got into the town car. He'd kept in character and had even managed to get on Bruce's good side. Now the billionaire wanted to protect his construction company. Sure he'd do some fact checking first, but when Barbara gave him the all clear, that man was going to do everything he could to help protect him from men like Black Mask and Penguin.

The Red Hood could have some run-ins with the Bat Clan, but for the most part he'd be able to relax his patrols in the area. It wouldn't even look suspicious after his encounter with the Bat last night. It would be completely understandable for The Red Hood to avoid getting into another confrontation with him, especially considering he'd been injured by the Bat and would have to be watching out for retaliation from Joker.

He looked out his window and took a deep breath. That was a whole other problem for him to worry about. Even though it hadn't been that long since the near deadly brush with the Clown Prince of Crime, he was extremely concerned that he'd gone deep underground. No one had seen hide nor hair of him anywhere; not even his gang. He hadn't made a scene at Quinzel's funeral, he hadn't tried to come after him and he hadn't left any taunting messages. He knew it meant that he was planning something particularly nasty for him and the thought terrified him.

“Refocus. Worry about the clown later.” He grumbled to himself. Bruce had Babs working on digging up information on Bennet Construction. She would be thorough, she would be relentless and she would find any cracks in his foundation. The question was whether or not he and his associate had left any for her to discover. He felt confident that every piece was in it's place, but it was still nerve-racking to sit and wait without knowing for sure.

His only heads up would be the Bat showing up in his hotel and demanding to know why he was killing off criminals. His ass would end up in Blackgate and then after taking out at least couple dozen losers they'd probably ship him out to the new Arkham Asylum, a place he never intended on stepping foot anywhere near.

“What's with all this negativity?” He asked himself suddenly. He'd been planning this all out for months; years even. Everything was going how he wanted so there was no reason to start doubting it all now. Right?

 


	9. I Had A Family Once

Chapter 9

 

January 26th

1815

 

“Talk to me, Barbara.” Bruce answered by way of greeting. He was sitting in his office and just about ready to leave for the night when he received her call.

“The company is completely clean, Bruce. I mean there was an employee years and years ago who embezzled money, but it's got nothing to do with the current owner or even the past two prior to him.” She started. “His Grandfather was the previous owner and willed it to him after he passed away ten months ago. There's a lot of concern about his age, and several of the company's investors are urging him to create a position for a CEO. ”

“I am aware of all of that.” He told her. “Is there anything about the company or JT that Lucious or investors might have overlooked?”

“So far everything looks legit on the business front. I know we like to find skeletons, but there are ethical companies out there. He's not from Gotham and this is what most companies outside of our city look like when you start digging in.” Barbara pointed out.

Bruce nodded despite the fact that she couldn't see him. He was putting on his coat when he realized something about her wording. “You said on the business front.” Bruce pointed out. “What have you found on a personal level?””

“There's a lot actually. It's not that the information isn't related to the company, it's just that it's got nothing to do with how he ended up with the company. Where would you like me to begin?”

“I'll trust your judgment.”

“Well, for one, several of Black Mask's men have been vandalizing and threatening his construction sites. We have four or five police reports; about one for every other week that they've been in Gotham. Apparently this JT guy has quite a temper.

“According to almost every officer and witness statement JT has personally shown up to deal with Black Mask's guys and he's nearly gotten physical in all of the reports. One incident in particular states that he threatened to throw one of them in a cement mixer. After the man he threatened pulled out a knife he is reported to have called him a 'knife wielding', well he got derogatory, and then he spit in his face. It took four of his employees and three cops to pull the two apart.”

“How many times has he reported being attacked outside of work?”

“Strangely enough, there are no police reports that take place off site.”

“Odd,” Bruce frowned as he started to pace in his office. “Black Mask wouldn't harass him only at work. I would think he'd be having him followed, especially after getting violent with his men.”

“Maybe they have and he just hasn't said anything?” He could hear her shrug through the phone. “I can't analyze a report that doesn't exist.”

“I know that, Barbara. What else do you have?”

“After his grandfather died he started suffering from depression and anxiety according to his medical records. It's also noted by a psychiatrist that he's becoming more and more reckless and he think it's due to said depression.” Barbara continued.

“That's not surprising considering.”

“He's also been dating an officer in the GCPD.” She added.

“How did you find that out? He doesn't seem the type to mess with social media.” The detective smirked. “Or did you get this from your father?”

“Detective Bullock, actually.” She replied.

“Well that's not so bad. Who is she?” Bruce chuckled. “Anyone that we know?”

“We definitely know him, alright.” Barbara answered.

“Him?” Bruce frowned and then rolled his eyes. “Tell me it's not Dick.” Silence. “So that's who Tim was referring to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh nothing. Timothy has been giving Dick Hell about some construction worker he's been dating but has refused to bring around.” He wanted to be scandalized by the information but he'd recognized Dick's bisexual tendencies the moment he'd entered puberty. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

“This incident that you and The Hood were involved in last night could really hurt Bennet Construction and the work they are doing. There have been several petitions to end the project and one of the developers backed out just this afternoon.”

“I see.” He plopped down in his chair and started to rub at his temples as his former Batgirl continued to explain the problems the company was immediately facing. He was listening carefully when suddenly blue eyes widened as he sat straight up. “Barbara, when did you say Bennet Construction came into town?”

“JT's been in town since early September, but construction didn't start until late November.” She answered, letting go of the fact he'd interrupted her. She was used to it by now.

“When did his crew show up?”

“The same time I would imagine.” He heard her clicking away on her computer and then it stopped while he assumed she was reading whatever she'd pulled up. “Actually it took him quite a while to get anyone to hire on, it's why the work started so late. He didn't have a complete crew until after Thanksgiving.”

Bruce stood yet again from his desk. “I want a work up of every employee he's had since they started the project, even if they were temps. Everyone, Barbara.”

“Sure Bruce, but what's this about?”

“The Mancini hit was the third crime GCPD was able to pin on The Red Hood but it was actually his first in Gotham that we know of.” He began to explain. “The explosion occurred on November 28 th . It has to be someone he hired.” 

* * *

 

Dick moaned as he grabbed a hold of JT's hair, his fingers wrapping around the sticky ebony strands tightly. He let his head fall backwards against the head board as he continued to guide his lover up and down his shaft. The laborer's mouth was warm and eager around him; and there was something that he did with his tongue just under the tip of his cock that made him tremble.

When he'd come over earlier, he'd expected to be bent over considering how pent up JT insisted he was. This was the first time they'd gotten a chance to get together since the night he'd moved into the penthouse suite. So he'd been rather surprised when JT informed him that they couldn't have sex but that he was up for some head. Again, Dick assumed he'd be the one expected to perform this service until he'd been pushed backward onto the bed.

“Oh, wow, that's,” Dick bit at his lip as felt JT's calloused hands gently massaging his testicles. If he continued on that track he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. Maybe a minute, tops.

As it turned out, he lasted somewhere between twenty and thirty seconds before he felt the first stream of semen erupt from his head and into his lover's mouth. He was surprised yet again when instead of moving away, JT swallowed everything he had to offer, causing an even longer and more intense orgasm for Dick.

“Damn.” The older man gasped when he let go of JT's hair. “That was,”

“Impressive? Sublime? The best damned head you've ever received in your life?” JT grinned proudly as he moved to sit up on the bed beside him. “Feel free to add any other praises or compliments.”

“Aren't you sure of yourself?” Dick laughed. “What makes you think that's the best head I've received?” He challenged teasingly. 

“Because I've probably had more practice than the bumbling idiots you've been with.” JT shrugged.

“Why do you think my past lovers were inexperienced?”

“I don't. It's just a guess.” He responded. “Though, you do seem like the type who would only risk having a male relationship with someone who is just as unsure of himself as you are. You know; other cops, married men, guys like that.”

“Married men?” Dick exclaimed. “I would never!”

“Sure you wouldn't,” JT rolled his eyes with a wide smile. “I forget what a little goody-two-shoes you are. I'll bet you were Daddy's little golden boy.”

Swallowing hard to prevent himself from choking, Dick tried not to be hurt or shocked by the comment. He couldn't have known what he'd just said or what it meant to his past, but as his face fell it was fairly obvious that he was intensely hurt.

“Was it something I said?” JT frowned, regret and confusion flashing across his face.

“I had a, a brother.” Dick said softly and tried to speak without letting his voice crack. “We didn't always get along, actually we almost never did, but I loved him. A lot.” He blinked away a few gathered tears and then took a deep breath before smiling at JT. “He used to call me Goldie or Bruce's Golden Boy. He died about six years ago and I guess no one's ever called me that but him. It caught me off guard.”

“Jesus, Dick, I'm sorry.” JT got off the bed awkwardly. “I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories.”

“They weren't all bad.” Dick whispered so softly, he knew JT barely caught what he said. “I just never got the chance to really make sure he knew that I didn't resent him, you know?” He shook his head and tried to laugh it all off. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be such a downer. Especially after you were so, uh, giving.”

JT stood before him, his face haunted and his eyes narrowed on the floor as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Dick wasn't sure if he should say something, not after his outburst had completely killed the mood. He didn't want to risk making things even more weird between them.

When he'd first arrived, Dick had been nearly driven wild by the sight of him in formal attire. They had started making out fiercely and everything had been going so well. Now they were both just avoiding looking at one another in complete silence. He couldn't help but wonder if he was waiting for his phone to ring. It had happened often when neither had wanted it to, but now that they needed some kind of distraction there was none to be had.

JT raised his right arm and scratched the back of his head. “Look, I didn't mean to mess this up. I-

“No, please don't apologize. You couldn't have possibly known.” Dick interrupted while he stood up from the bed. He approached him quickly, trying to prove to him that he was fine, that he hadn't broken into a thousand tiny pieces. “Please, JT, I'm so sorry I spoiled this.”

The larger man shrugged. “I had a family, once too.” He spoke softly, almost tenderly. “They're gone now, but I had one once.”

“Can I asked what happened?”

“No. I don't like talking about it.” He stated bluntly as his eyes hardened and his lips tightened.

“You don't have to talk about it, but you can if you want. In the future I mean.” Dick offered.

Once more JT turned his back on the officer. “Do you understand that we're not in a relationship?”

“What?”

“You do get that, right?” JT demanded as he turned back to face him with angry teal eyes and a snarl on his face. “You know I'm not your fucking boyfriend, don't you? This is just sex, Officer Grayson, nothing more, nothing less. You're just a piece of ass for me to hit when I'm bored.”

Taken aback, Dick couldn't find his words right away and simply stared slack jawed at his cruelty. It didn't take long however, for the fighting spirit in him to awaken. He might have been a nice guy, he might have been easy going, but Richard John Grayson was no one's door mat and he would not be walked all over by anyone.

“Don't you talk to me like that.” He growled as he stepped up to the younger man. “I don't know what your problem is and I don't really care. You have no right speaking to me that way. I've done nothing to deserve it.

“If you don't want me here, that's fine. I'll walk out that door and we'll never have to see each other again. But if you ever want me in anyway; as friend, lover, or piece of ass, you will apologize to me right now.”

It was evident by the look on JT's face that he hadn't expected Dick to fight back. He had the decency to appear a bit sheepish as his cheeks flushed slightly. His head came down just a hair before he took a breath and then looked up to face him, his teal eyes almost appearing watery.

“You're right, I'm sorry.” He said thickly. “I don't do back stories.”

“It's ok. I'm still sorry that I upset you earlier by talking about my little brother.” Dick offered with a reassuring smile.

“Don't smile at me you, dork.” JT laughed as he snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him so that they were toe to toe. “You're supposed to be contrite for ruining my night.”

Laughing, Dick stood on his tip toes and wrapped his arms around JT's neck. He pressed his lips gently onto the irritable younger man's and then smiled again. “You'll get used to me, I promise.”

 


	10. All In On Black

Chapter 10

 

January 29 th

 

JT walked out of the construction trailer, a cell pinned to his ear by his right shoulder while he carried a cup of coffee in one hand and a box full of blue prints under his left arm. The meeting he'd just attended had gone over by three hours. Nothing made him more impatient or more irritable than being forced to sit down and converse with strangers for nearly four hours. He was so far behind he wasn't sure he'd be able to salvage the rest of his work day. Why on Earth had he picked this to be his alter ego or secret identity? It was way more work than he knew Bruce had to put in for his persona.

During the meeting he'd done little more than analyze his time with Dick from two nights ago. At first he told himself he was just worried he'd given to much away. Calling him Golden Boy had really fucked the cop up and that was something Jason hadn't been expecting. At first he had tried to calm things down and to downplay what had happened, but Dick kept on talking. The more he talked of their turbulent relationship, the more it had hurt him as well. He'd just wanted him to stop talking, to get over it so that they could go back to fooling around.

He didn't want to admit that what Dick had to say was just as agonizing for him to hear as it had been for him to speak aloud. It wasn't easy to believe that Dick didn't resent him, but it was easy to believe that he loved him. Dick loved everyone and that was what had made him so angry. Grayson couldn't just hate Jason Todd and let him go. No. He had to carry him around in his stupid heart and make things kind of awkward and complicated.

Are you listening to me? That was the question he'd just been asked by the man on the opposite end of his phone. He really needed to pay more attention. He was going to get himself killed or something if he didn't get his head in the game. With a little more heat to his tone than he meant he asked for Greg to repeat himself.

“No, no, no. I don't give a shit what they say it costs, Greg, just fucking get it done.” He snapped at his foreman. Immediately he was given an excuse about a lack of men and three more resignations turned in. “Are you fucking kidding me? Over what? For fuck's sake, it was one guy and he was probably working for them from the beginning!”

He paused and let the man continue to complain and whine about people being to afraid to work for them after Michael's death. His eyes scanned the area around him as he realized there were three to many black SUV's surrounding his red pick up in the parking lot. This wasn't good and what was worse, there was nothing he could do to save himself except to allow the cops or some superheroes to save his ass. If he tried to fight with all that he was, Bruce and his clan would know that he was The Red Hood.

“Greg.... Greg. GREG!” When he finally had his attention he continued and wasn't at all surprised when six men in black skull masks jumped out of the SUV's, three with handguns aimed at him, two with bats and one with a knife. “I think I'm about to be abducted. Call Officer Dick Grayson with GCPD. Yeah I'm fucking serious. Three black SUV's, can't see their license plates but they're most likely Black Mask's guys.”

“You JT Bennet?” One of them men demanded from behind his drawn gun.

“I'm on the phone.” He answered coolly.

“That's him.” Another insisted. “You're coming for a ride with us, Bennet.”

“Maybe you guys could come back, I'm kinda busy.” He heard Greg begging him to stop being such a wise ass on the other side of the phone. He could also hear him talking to someone on a different phone; emergency dispatch.

“Watch it smart ass,” The first man growled. “I don't give a rat's ass what Black Mask says; I'll shoot you right here and now.”

“I guess I'm going to have to call you back, Greg.” He told his friend on the phone. “Hey buddy, you wanna come hold my coffee for me so I can put my phone away.”

“The nerve of this guy!” One of the masked thugs shouted. He started to swing his bat around like he was going to knock his block off. “Here I'll take your coffee, you shit.”

As soon as he was close enough Jason tossed the coffee in the guys face and pocketed the phone that he had yet to hang up. The man cried out in pain while his friends froze momentarily, shocked by the turn of events.

“Oh please, you really should have seen that coming.” He snarled before kicking him hard in the stomach which sent him sprawling into the muddy snow. Maybe if he frightened them off with a couple hits, no one would suspect anything and he wouldn't have to get his ass kicked today. “That was just way to fucking predictable!”

“Kinda like this?” A seventh and unseen thug said from behind him. How had he missed that? He felt something hard hit the back of his head and knew he was going to be unconscious as everything turned fuzzy before fading to black.

JT's head throbbed as he came to. He looked up to the front seat where the radio was and was pleased to see he'd been out for maybe three minutes or less. Just long enough for them to gag him, tie his hands and ankles together and toss him into the back seat of one of their vehicles. Two large men sat on either side of him; they were still wearing their ridiculous black skull masks.

“Call the boss, tell him we're on the way.” One of them men beside him ordered.

The man in the front passenger seat pulled out a phone to relay the message. Seeing this reminded JT that he'd had his phone in his front pocket and thankfully it was still there. The only question was whether or not Greg was still connected with him or not. He looked out the windows and watched to see where they were headed.

Either Black Mask had no intention of letting him live after their meeting or these guys were relying on the fact that he wasn't a local and wouldn't remember which way they took or where they were headed. He sincerely hoped for the latter, and when he thought about how stupid Black Mask was he felt a little more secure in that hope.

Then again, maybe Bruce had been right about him all those years ago. He'd had a tendency to dismiss his opponents with his own cockiness. Either way, if he had to rely on the police to find him instead of Nightwing or Batman, he really needed to hope that the crime lord was a complete idiot or he was a dead man. Again.

* * *

 “Calm down, Nightwing. We'll find him.” Tim tried to tell his older brother for probably the dozenth time that evening.

“It's been three hours,” Nightwing pointed out with strained patience. “and you know as well as I do that men like Black Mask don't delay pulling the trigger for that long.”

Frowning from his computer, Tim knew that Dick was right. They had been trying to track down the vehicles since they got the call but so far nothing had turned up. The foreman that JT had been talking to last stated that the call had disconnected shortly after he heard JT trying to put up a fight. They'd tried tracking the cellular device but to no avail. Apparently it was dead.

He and Oracle continued to work through all of the communications signals that they had but no one was talking about Black Mask or his newly captured hostage. Or was he to be a ransom? No one knew yet and so far no one had received any kind of contact from Black Mask or his men with demands.

“Who took the report from Greg Mitchell?” Batman asked as he came over the line.

Tim wasted no time looking up the police reports, but Oracle beat him to the punch. “Actually, it looks like he only talked to the dispatcher. Police haven't gotten him to return their calls and when they went to his hotel room he never answered.”

“Maybe they took him, too?” Tim suggested as he knew that he and Oracle were racing to find his hotel information to give to Nightwing and Batman.

“Not according to this.” Barbara stated. “I looked up his hotel and according to his card swipes he's at the spa. Spa records indicate that he's getting a massage. There's a video to back it up as well.”

“He was setup.” Batman growled angrily. “Nightwing, you stay out here and keep searching for the SUV's. I'll deal with Mitchell.”

“Not this time, B.” Nightwing responded, his tone sounding labored as he it became obvious that he was already on the move. “I'm closer to the hotel, you stay on the look out.”

“That wasn't a request.”

“And I'm not your subordinate, Batman. Not anymore.”

“Guys, now isn't the time for this.” Tim interrupted before they could continue arguing. “It makes sense for Nightwing to interrogate Greg Mitchell, he's the closest by several blocks.”

Knowing that Nightwing wasn't going to wait for anyone to agree, Tim continued sending locations of black SUVs of all makes and models to Batman. He knew it would annoy the older man but if their goal was to find this guy alive, they didn't have time for Bruce and Dick to get into one of their oldest arguments.

“This is taking too much time.” Batman snapped. “Oracle, are you sure there is no video surveillance of the trucks or the men who took JT?”

“Positive, Bruce. This being a set-up makes a lot of sense. The camera's his crew installed out there supposedly started having connection problems and were going through an eight hour update to get them back online. There was a minimal amount of men working today and Greg claimed he was out recruiting at the workforce services office.” She explained. “I'm tracking his phone records now to find out when and who he was contacting.”

“Got it!” Tim shouted in triumph. “Greg called the same number twice this morning and has been receiving calls from the same number for the past two weeks. He also had heavy contact with Michael Labrum just days before his death!”

“You know, just because you aren't suited up doesn't mean you should be using that hand for typing, Robin.” Oracle said with an edge. “You could still do permanent damage and then where would you be?”

“Let's have some radio silence for a while.” Nightwing suggested.

“Are you close to Greg?” Tim asked.

“No, you two are just about to go into some territory I don't really want to hear about.” Nightwing laughed softly.

“Focus on the mission.” Batman snapped. “This isn't the time for playful banter.”

* * *

He blinked slowly, his head aching and his left eye swelling quickly. His arms were sore from them being restrained behind him. His ankles were cuffed to the two front legs of the metal chair they'd held him in and his mouth was still gagged. They were giving him one hell of beating and several times Jason wondered if they were actually going to kill him before the Batman or Nightwing showed up. Then they'd let up to make sure they didn't do too much damage and he'd be back to thinking that this was just supposed to be a real convincing talk.

His lip was bleeding, his nose was definitely broken and he was worried that they'd busted his cheek bone after the last hit with a flashlight. He'd had worse so it wasn't like he was crying out for mercy and begging to be released, but a beating was still a beating. Anytime the Caped Crusader and his damned sidekick wanted to show up would be just fine with him.

“Hey! He's here.” One of them men announced before he heard the clicking sounds of high heeled shoes and the near stomping of loafers against the dingy tile.

“So this is the creep trying to rebuild the burrows.” Black Mask spat as he came into view with his female assistant. “You feeling like a tough guy now, Smart Ass?”

Jason mumbled something into the cloth gag but even he couldn't have made out what he said. Black Mask reached forward and pulled down the rag, or maybe it was a towel? He hadn't really paid much attention when he was unconscious.

“What was that?” He asked.

“Four armed guys beating on one man tied to a chair, you bet your ass I'm feeling tough.” Jason snickered. “I must be a real threat to you cock-suckers.”

Fury burned deep within the Black Mask's eyes before he slugged him twice in the stomach and then once in the face. He wrapped his large hands around his neck and started to strangle him, one of his eyes twitching. Jason struggled to breathe but the man's grip was firm enough to prevent the flow of oxygen from reaching his lungs.

“You're young, I can see that. Probably got a lot to prove.” He ground out the words between gritted teeth. “Well, Kid, I ain't got time for you to learn your place. I want those damned weapons and I want them now. Answer me or you'll leave this place in a body bag. Where are my guns?”

Jason coughed and sputtered as soon as the scumbag released his neck. He tried to take in large gulps of air and he knew that he was filling his lungs with the much needed oxygen, but his body didn't seem to believe his brain. Black Mask and his crew were polite enough to let him get through the hyperventilation before one of the goons came forward and smacked him in the face.

“Where are my guns?”

“I don't know what the fuck you're talking about man.” He panted.

“Some costumed freak killed the guy that was supposed to be setting up the drop point. Said guy told us you higher ups were perfectly aware of what was going on and had even assisted on delivering the weapons in one of your fuel tankers.” Black Mask explained though the more he spoke the angrier and more impatient his tone got. “Now you tell me where the Hell you put those guns!”

Jason shook his head and looked Black Mask in the eye as best he could. “I don't know what you're talking about. I just heard about Michael's connections from the police this morning.”

“See, Kid, if you hadn't been such a pain in the ass when I first sent my men to greet you, I'd believe what you're saying.” The man stepped forward and grabbed Jason's collar. “To bad for you, you had to be a tough guy.”

“Tell me about it.” Even as the words left his mouth, Jason knew that was a mistake. It wasn't like he could fight off the Black Mask in this state and he certainly couldn't attempt to escape when Batman or Nightwing could show up any minute. Or at least he hoped they were going to show up any minute. Really, this could all have been one hell of gamble that he'd gone all in on.

“That's it. To Hell with this, I'm gonna fucking strangle the life right out of you!” Once again Jason's airway was cut off. “My face is the last thing you'll ever see and I am going to enjoy watching the lights go out.”

If he'd had the ability, Jason would have gladly informed him of how terrible a fate seeing his face had already been, but unfortunately for him, Black Mask actually knew what he was doing and had the strength to pull it off. He tried to squirm loose, to fight back in some way, but there was no letting up. Was that ringing he heard? Fucking cell phones, could no one escape them?

“Hey, Boss, it's Mitchell!” One of the guys shouted.

Once again his body was simultaneously coughing and trying inhale at the same time, which also served to deprive him of air. He felt his body spasming as it once more tried to hyperventilate and throw up. He really needed to figure out how to get his body to stop trying to do opposing tasks at the same damned time.

He winced as he attempted to ignore his body's disappointing reaction to asphyxiation and focus on what he'd just heard. Mitchell? Wasn't that his foreman's last name? It wasn't that he was easily frightened but knowing that Greg fucking Mitchell was Black Mask's man meant that Dick had never been alerted to his situation and that meant that Nightwing and Batman might not even know that they were supposed to come in and save his ass.

If he survived, he was definitely taking that little prick out. He'd been so careful picking those who he needed to rely on in the business world. What the Hell had Black Mask offered or threatened to turn someone he'd been so sure of against him? He tried to think over everything he knew of the man, but nothing made sense.

His children were grown and living in Texas. His wife had died of cancer two years ago and he was making damned good money. 'JT' had personally seen to it. He practically picked his own hours and worked on the projects that he felt like working on. So was it simple greed that turned him or was it fear and intimidation? While he was certain it was one of the three, maybe even a combination, none would be a good enough reason to save him from The Red Hood.

Unless of course The Red Hood didn't survive the night.

“What do you mean you were attacked? By what?” Black Mask shouted. “I don't care who the Hell threatened you; do you know the location of my guns or not?” He paused to allow Greg to answer before he bellowed, or was it more of a roar? “WHAT?! You're a dead man, Mitchell. You and your boss.”

Well that didn't seem fair. It wasn't his fault they picked two people with the least amount of knowledge about Gotham to bring in guns. If they'd at least chosen some of their own locals their guns never would have ended up in Joker's possession. Speaking of, wasn't he going to be pissed to find out the open auditions for Gotham's New Joker Nemesis were canceled?

Crushing the cell phone in a vice like grip the crime lord in the mask turned to glare at him. “Do you know where my guns are?” Jason shook his head. “They're with some clown, a freak who I won't get within ten feet of! You know why?”

“Because you chose incompetent lackeys who didn't know shit about this God-awful city.” Jason answered. “Or were you referring to why you stay away from Joker?”

“You know what, shooting him's too easy.” Black Mask told his thugs. “Make him suffer before you kill him, but don't let him pass out. He wants to be tough, let him be tough.” He pointed to a couple of his men. “You two go get the foreman, but be careful, he said something about a Nightwing.”

The two goons nodded and left immediately while the remaining four came forward, one with a chain, one a bat, one with that big ass flashlight, and the last with a knife. At least they were going for diversity. He had to stall, to think of something that would keep them from permanently ruining his ability to keep living.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He said just as one of the men swung his chain. It landed painfully against his shoulder which caused him to cry out. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut to get past the throbbing ache.

“Oh, now you got something to say?” Black Mask rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Choose your words wisely, Kid, cause if you say something stupid I'm gonna end you right here and now.”

“Fair enough. No, seriously.” Jason nodded. “What if, what if I can get your guns from this clown guy?”

“How would you do that?”

“Who cares how I'd do it?” He retorted. “If I'm successful you get your guns and I get to walk away from this whole mess. If I fail, clown man takes me out and you never have to deal with me or my company again.”

For a moment he was sure that Black Mask was going to say no and just have him killed. “Either way you end the project?”

“If, if that's what you want then yes.” Jason nodded. “I promise.”

“Mitchell hinted that you guys were doing something else in the Burrows. Something classified and top secret.” The black skeleton faced freak walked up to him and took hold of his throbbing shoulder, squeezing hard. “What is it?”

If he knew the truth and Jason lied then he was dead, but if he didn't know, he could still protect the project. Black Mask would destroy the cameras either way if he knew about them, so once again, Jason found himself betting it all on Black. And then he heard something above them, something that was so familiar and oh so comforting. A grappling gun.

“Phone booths, you know? For Superman.” He laughed.

He felt the gun smash into that busted cheekbone and everything went black momentarily as he and his chair were flipped to their side. The bat, the flashlight and the chain all hit him in various places. They were all so wrapped up in beating him down they didn't even notice Batman land behind Black Mask or Nightwing take the man with the knife out.

He knew it hadn't taken long for his captors to be incapacitated but it sure as fuck left like it. One of the bastards had gotten him at least twice more and before he lost consciousness for the whatevereth time he swore he'd kill him, too.

* * *

Helping Batman right the chair and body of his lover was almost to much for Nightwing. He knew they hadn't known each other long and he knew that he shouldn't be so attached, but something about JT just pulled him in. He wouldn't say he was in love with him by any means, but he knew he cared very deeply for him. That he'd connected to his surly and sarcastic personality.

Gotham PD was on their way along with a bus for JT. He was still in and out consciousness but his face looked bad and he feared he'd suffered a serious head injury. He could see that his shoulder was dislocated and with all the bruising he wondered just how many bones had been fractured by the brutes that had taken him.

Carefully, he removed the restraints from his arms while Batman took of the cuffs that held his legs to the chair. He ran his gloved hand gently over his swollen and broken face, ignoring the discomfited look in his mentor's flat blue eyes. “JT?” The young man winced as his eyes opened slightly. “You have to hold on, alright. You're safe now. Don't let go.”

In what looked more like a grimace than a smile, JT mumbled something incoherent. Nightwing wanted to coax him into repeating himself but Batman gave him a very stern look that warned it would not be tolerated. He supposed he understood. It wasn't that Batman disapproved of them, it was that he didn't want Nightwing giving himself away by doing or saying anything that he might remember. Not to mention it wouldn't be wise to make Black Mask or any of his men aware of a union.

Realizing this, Nightwing stood up and kept his distance from JT until the ambulance and police officers arrived. He couldn't help but keep a close watch on him as they loaded him into the ambulance, especially since Batman was busy talking to Commissioner Gordon. He wanted to say something to him, to make sure he truly knew he was safe, but the words didn't come. Instead he simply approached and looked to the EMT.

“Make sure Gordon posts an officer at his door. Black Mask may try to retaliate and kill him.”

“There ain't no grave can hold my body down.” JT's eyes remained closed even as he croaked out the words to the old Johnny Cash tune.

Even though it was complete non-sense and sign of a concussion, Nightwing felt somewhat comforted and chose to believe it was his way of saying he was going to be fine. He moved to Batman's side once the ambulance left and listened to the conversation between the two old friends. It didn't sound like things were going well for either of them.

“Just now?” Batman frowned.

“Yeah, two of Black Mask's men showed up before my officers could arrive.” Gordon frowned. “Or, they were paid not to show up at all.”

Dick couldn't help but feel for the commissioner. It had taken him years and years to get the GCPD to the point he could trust most of his officers, but every now and then someone gave into temptation. It could take days but would most likely take months to find out who the corrupted cops or detectives were and he knew the Commission wouldn't get much sleep until they were found. His dedication to the force was as devotional as Bruce's commitment to protecting Gotham as Batman.

“What's going on, Batman?”

“Greg Mitchell was found shot to death.” He answered sternly.

“What? But I...”

“It's not your fault, Nightwing.” But he knew by the tone in Batman's voice that he was saying that for the sake of the audience around him. He was never going to hear the end of this one.

 


	11. Damned Rich Boys

Chapter 11

 

January 30th 0240 hrs

 

“I'm not sticking around for this, Bruce. I'm going to the hospital.” Dick insisted as he climbed the stairs from the Bat Cave and into the manor. He had showered and dressed in his GCPD uniform; he wasn't going on patrol but he knew he'd get in to see JT easier and with little to no questioning from the hospital staff.

“Your emotions cost a man his life tonight!” Bruce shouted as he followed him upstairs in his own black slacks and red sweater. “Had you not been so eager to get to JT, you'd have made sure the police arrived for him. Instead you left him to Black Mask's men and he was killed!”

Dick turned to face him, his blue eyes narrowed as his fists clenched at his sides. “And how many lives have been lost when you went off to rescue Selena, Talia or even us in the past? We make choices, Bruce. Sometime we make the wrong ones!” He acknowledged. “But you will not guilt me into breaking it off with him any more than we can guilt you into ignoring the messes Selena gets herself into!”

Tim ran up the stairs behind them, concerned for their strained relationship and not knowing what to say or how to fix it. The last time Dick and Bruce had gone at it like this had pushed the two into a silence that lasted nearly three months. Hell, they'd only begun speaking because Barbara had been in a minor accident and both had arrived at the hospital at the same time to visit her.

“I'm not saying I want you to break it off with him, I'm telling you to stop letting your emotions cloud your better judgment.” Bruce argued. “You think I don't realize that I've made mistakes in the past? That I don't regret every life I haven't been able to save?”

Dick shook his head, refusing to hear what was being said. “I have to leave. I need to check on him. Call me if you need anything, Timmy.”

Bruce watched as Dick turned his back on him yet again and storm out of the manor. He held his head and started to sway just a bit before he caught himself. With a quick glance to an alarmed Timothy, he immediately turned down the hall and headed up to bed before he could be interrogated by the sharpest of his partners. He knew he needed to tell them soon, but right now wasn't the time.

* * *

Jason's eyes squinted under the irritating lights of the hospital room. He'd never felt more vulnerable in his life as he realized he was in one of those gowns and lying in a bed with four strangers staring down at him with sympathy. He could catch only bits of their whispered conversation and knew the pain killers they had him on were entirely too high. He hated feeling out of control and immediately heard the machine starting to beep, indicating that his blood pressure was rising. If he didn't calm down, they were going to assume he was in pain and increase the dose.

“Mr. Bennet?” A blonde haired man with thick black glasses called his name as he stood over him. “I know you're in a lot of pain, but we need to get a statement from you.”

He saw Harvey Bullock roll his eyes impatiently at the rookie detective's gentle tone. The senior detective was one of his favorites because of his attitude. He was gruff and rough around the edges. He'd played dirty but in the end he always got his man and Jason had admired him for it. Hell, a part of him had even crushed on him a bit as a younger teenager. Nothing obscene or inappropriate, just one of those guy crushes that made you realize there were other ways to get the job done.

Not saying Harvey wasn't unattractive or overtly so; he was an everyday man. An Irish cop that had shaggy auburn hair and a stubby beard that was just now starting to gray a bit. Looking at his sideburns he could see they were getting a little dusted as well. His mean blue eyes were always absorbing, always taking in the details, though most attributed the action to boredom or ADD. He always wore nice clothing, but they were put on in such a slovenly way that told his fellow detectives that he didn't have the time to worry about looks; just catching bad guys.

“You listening, Kid?” Harvey glared as he noticed him staring. It amazed Jason how many people used identifiers like kid or sport or tiger. He was starting to get sick of being called Kid, especially after Black Mask had called him that as well. “We need your statement.”

His jaw was sore as he gave it a test yawn, but at least it hadn't been busted. “Do I look like I'm in the mood to talk?” He spat irritably and was horrified by the way his voice cracked and croaked.

“I understand you are hurting but-” The other detective tried.

“And you think I have time to wait for you to feel better?” Harvey demanded as he stepped toward him. “We have an investigation that needs to be closed so we can go help people out there that actually need it. That didn't have the costumed freak's protection tonight.”

“Detective, I don't think you should be talking to JT like that.” Jason's head whipped around painfully as he realized that one of the two uniforms in the room with the detectives was Dick.

“Mind your own business, Grayson. I don't even know what you're doing here.” Harvey sneered. Jason couldn't help but smile inwardly. Detective Bullock's love of the Waynes hadn't grown in the last five years and he somehow found that oddly comforting.

“Relax, Detective, he's on my emergency contact list.” Jason rasped out the lie.

“What?” His brows knitted in confusion as he looked from a blushing Grayson to a half smirking JT. Comprehension lit his eyes and Jason was pleased that Dick wasn't hiding his bisexuality anymore. No one would have jumped to Harvey's conclusion if they didn't already known someone's preferences. Shaking his head, Harvey rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you don't need to be in here while we take a statement. Wait outside.”

“I already told you, I'm not talking.” Jason repeated, wanting to argue; no, needing to argue. He'd just allowed his ass to get kicked by Black Mask and his men, he'd nearly gotten himself killed because he wasn't able to be himself and some part of him needed to fight. If only to remind himself that he wasn't the weak kid he'd been pretending to be today.

“You tryin' to cover something up, Mr. Bennet?” Harvey smiled to the horror of his partner and the two uniforms that still hadn't left the room. “Maybe you two had a deal that went wrong and now you're just trying to keep it under wraps.”

Wanting so badly to smile, Jason hid it with an irritated growl. “Absolutely not! I'd never deal with that scum sucking toad. You want my statement? Fine,” This was why he'd always liked working with Bullock in his Robin days. The man knew just where to hit and how hard to make someone, anyone talk. “ but I don't want Dick hearing this.”

“Gotcha.” Harvey smiled and turned to face Grayson who was stunned and about to start arguing. “Come on, Officer, you heard the man.” He began ushering the two uniforms out the door.

“JT!” Dick exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“Look, Kid, sometimes a real man has to show some weakness and he can't do it when his lady is within earshot.” Harvey grinned as he pressed him out of the room and then shut the door.

Jason couldn't help but laugh as he heard Harvey's words or saw the look on Dick's face when he called him a lady. It was just too priceless. He knew he should be outraged or something, but he couldn't help but feel like it was something he would have said in the large man's shoes. No wonder Gordon kept him around. He kept people on their toes.

“Detective, isn't that Bruce Wayne's ward?” The rookie asked in a worried whisper.

“What of it?” Harvey growled before his face softened just a little. “'Sides, Dick ain't like that. He's worked hard to get where he is.” He admitted begrudgingly. Jason wanted to know how badly that admission had to have tasted. “Back to business, Mr. Bennet.”

“I was on the phone with my foreman for the Burrows project when I saw a few black SUV's roll up. When they got out I told Greg to call the cops. I heard him connect with a dispatcher on the other end and I tried to leave my phone on, but the prick hung up on me before it died. Apparently he knew I was about to get kidnapped.”

“How do you know that?” Harvey asked before his partner could say anything.

“Cause Black Mask fucking told me so.” Jason sneered. “If you look back over the past couple months or so, you'll see I've had to call your damned department several times because of his thugs. Then, the other night one of my guys gets killed; turns out the asshole was setting up a weapon's delivery.”

“Yeah, that Red Hood guy and Batman took him and one of Black Mask's thugs out.” Jason knew what Harvey was doing with that statement. Few people knew that Red Hood had been a part of the explosion. If he tried to defend or say anything about it, Harvey could prove he knew who The Red Hood was or flat-out accuse him of being the murderous vigilante.

“I have no clue what you're talking about Detective.” Jason frowned. “All the police told me was that there was an explosion, but that my guy was shot to death by Black Mask's men.”

“Fair enough. Keep going.” Harvey shrugged apparently giving up on that avenue.

“Black Mask's men beat me up until he arrived. Then they beat me up some more.” Jason shrugs. “The freak shows up and gets a call from Greg while they're beating me-”

“When you say they beat you up, how did they do it? With weapons? What kind?” The rookie interrupted. After seeing that he was being glared at by both men in the room, he started to shrink back. “It, it could be important.”

“You some kind of sadist?” Jason snapped, again expelling some of that compulsion to fight. “You get off on hearing about things like that? You seem kind of meek to be any kind of dominant figure; maybe you're just a masochist and want to relive it with me, you little puke.”

Harvey smirked but ended up stepping between Jason's bed and the cowering detective who was adamantly denying the accusations. “Alright, that's enough. Just continue on with your statement. Detective Kitzky here won't interrupt any more. Fair enough?”

After glaring at the smaller man, Jason turned to look at Harvey as he continued with his story of how things went down. “Sometime later, I don't really know how much later, some winged freak and a guy in black and blue came crashing down.”

“How do we know this wasn't set up to make you more money? You could be lying, you could have worked out a deal with Black Mask to come and harass you so that you can get money from both the city and it's developers as well as Black Mask.” The Rookie stated somewhat awkwardly.

“You fucking idiot!” Jason snapped. “Do you realize I could lose everything now? I won't just lose this job, this contract, but my whole fucking company! After what that shit head did, my investors will insist on a CEO being hired. This event may have just stolen my Grandfather's company from me. I am going to lose everything over some crime boss and you think I did this to myself?”

“Oh, God, I'm, I'm so sorry.” The man frowned and then as he turned to write down something in his notes, Jason caught the small upward twist of his lips. The little bastard was probably one of Black Mask's men. The little freak probably was a masochist and crooked as the smirk he thought was so well hidden behind his meek detective facade. Well, look who just landed themselves on the short list.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Kid. I know it don't matter much, but it's a shame what's happened to you.” Harvey offered as he glared at Detective Kitzky.

He and the rookie had started to make their way toward the door when Harvey stopped and turned. “Any of your crew from Gotham?”

So they were looking for The Red Hood amongst his men; it made sense since it was him. “A few, why?”

“Any of them ever talk about Gotham needing to be cleansed or anything kind of crazy like that?” Harvey asked, ignoring his question.

“Crazy? Detective, I think everyone in this town, local or not, thinks this place needs to be flushed.” He snickered.

“Ok, true, but have you heard any talk? Anyone insisting that they know how to deal with criminals or things like that?” Harvey took a few steps forward. “I mean, you're a prick, I can tell that; but you're not one of those pampered rich boys. You actually do a lot of the work with your guys. If anyone knows his employees, it's gonna be a man just like you. Someone who gets in the dirt and works with them.”

Jason faltered as he realized that this was all true. If JT were real, he'd be the kind of guy who heard things like that. The problem was, his men didn't discuss that kind of shit because none of them were The Red Hood and he certainly didn't walk around talking to his men about how he felt about the trash of Gotham. However, several of his men had agreed with him standing up to Black Mask and he could tell Harvey about a few of them, but not with the weasel working the case. They'd end up dead.

“As if I could trust you guys.” Jason sneered. “For all I know any one of you pukes could be working for Black Mask.” He sat up and looked Bullock in the eyes and hoped like Hell he'd get the hint. “If there was one good cop, or one detective that I could trust, I'd tell them everything,” He leaned back into his bed and closed his eyes and shook his head. “but seeing as how most of you are dirty, I ain't got shit to say to you about my men.”

“You know what?” He brought his hands together as if to strangle him. “Be that way.” Harvey's face contorted into angered disgust, but there was a glittering of anticipation in his gray-blue eyes that Jason hoped meant that he'd understood him perfectly. “To Hell will with this. I'm outta here. Sick of these damned rich boys and their” he grumbled as he started walking away.

He didn't know for certain, but if he had a good read on Harvey's personality he'd basically said. “I'll send in the cop you trust with the one that you don't out of earshot.” Or, with as crappy as he felt and as hopped up on meds as he was, it could all just be in his head and Harvey might resent his shitty attitude. Either way, he couldn't help but hope that Harvey and The Red Hood would get a chance to meet in the future.

* * *

 

Dick walked into the hospital room that his lover was being kept in. He'd been enraged by the way Harvey had spoken to him and by JT's laughter, but all was forgiven when he looked at his busted up body and the tortured look on his face. JT had been through Hell tonight and they'd only just arrived in time to save him. Another minute later and it would have been too late.

He approached his bedside and found he was calmed by the lie that had seemed to come so naturally and without hesitation. Dick had been touched when Bennet claimed that he was an emergency contact on his list. He didn't have to lie, but he did just to make things easier on him. It certainly didn't change anything for JT and that's why it concreted these intense new feelings he had.

“JT?” Dick spoke his name in a whisper, just in case he was asleep. His left eyes was swollen and discolored, speaking to the level of injury there. When the man's eyes opened he felt it was safe to continue to speak. “Harvey sent me a text message. He said you had more to tell me about who you think The Red Hood is.”

“I don't know who he is.” JT groaned tiredly. “I told him there were a few guys who'd said something that you cops might find incriminating. Matthew Harris and Blake Hunter. They're good guys, I doubt either of them are your man.”

“Why didn't you just tell Harvey that.”

“Cause the rookie's one of Black Mask's men and I didn't want my guys to end up dead cause they're all trigger happy dip-shits.”

Chuckling softly, Dick couldn't help but reach out and carefully run his fingers through the man's hair. He half expected to get his hand or head bitten off, but instead, JT leaned into the touch with a soft sound that he almost thought was a sigh of contentment. He stopped for a moment, which did get his head bitten off with an irate 'what the fuck?', so that he could grab one of the chairs.

After taking a seat and bringing the bed down so that he could reach him more comfortably, he continued to stroke his hair and softly touch his face in soothing motions. His fingertips were feather soft against his hot skin and he knew the cold touch was calming as well as reassuring. He doubted there were many that would spend time nurturing the hardened young construction worker.

It didn't take long at all for the patient to fall into a peaceful slumber and Dick was left to simply text Harvey back with the names JT had mentioned. He then propped up his legs on a second chair and crossed his arms. He didn't want to go back to the manor just yet. He just couldn't keep arguing with Bruce when his mind was so completely centered on his lover.

A text pulled him from his own sleep as the phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned as he read the message from Tim. He then texted back and immediately regretted how harsh he'd sounded as he read it over again.

Tim: Something is definitely up with Bruce. As you left tonight, I think he got dizzy or something. You should come home and try to get Alfred to tell us if anything is going on.

Dick: Bruce is a big boy and can take care of himself. Even if something was wrong he wouldn't tell us or Al anyhow. The only way we'll find out is if he dies.

That definitely wasn't like him and he found himself quickly hitting the buttons on his phone to apologize and explain that he didn't want to leave JT. After all, Black Mask might try to have him killed and if Gordon had been right, then he couldn't trust anyone to stand guard.

“Shouldn't you be going home, Officer.” He looked up to see teal blue eyes narrowed on him questioningly.

“Someone might try to hurt you while you're down.”

“It'd be the last mistake they ever made.” He smiled arrogantly. “Go home and get some sleep. You can come pester me with your possessive nature in the morning.”

“Oh, JT, how can you joke about something like this?” Dick stood from his make shift couch/bed thing and took the least bruised hand. “You could have died tonight.”

“But I didn't.”

“Because someone else saved you!” Dick frowned. “They might not be able to save you again!”

“People die, Dick. Sometimes more than once.” He snickered with heavy eyes.

“Well for most people that's a permanent state.”

A large, round, female nurse came into the room with a couple vials of medicine. “How's your pain, Mr. Bennet?” She asked with a sympathetic but kind smile.

“It's fine. Don't you put another God damned drop of morphine into my IV.” Dick was taken aback by the violent snarl and so was the nurse who simply blinked at him in surprise. She froze completely as she hesitated on what she should do.

“JT, don't be an asshole. She's just doing her job and checking on you.” He didn't want to lecture him, but he wouldn't abide that kind of rudeness. It was uncalled for and he could tell the woman was a bit shaken by the harsh words. “Apologize.”

“Fuck you, Dick, you aren't my mother and you aren't,” JT had started to shout but came to an abrupt stop as he blinked slowly and then looked to the nurse. He licked his lips and then nodded. “Sorry, Miss. I don't know what came over me. No more pain killers.” He paused a moment and then added. “Please.”

“I'll let the doctor know.” She said softly and then timidly stepped forward. “I can give you a bit of Benadryl to help you sleep. It's a non-narcotic and it will just make you sleepy, that's all.”

Both Dick and the nurse flinched when he finally spoke, but it was just a grunted a sure. She came forward and pulled a different vial from a locked cabinet and then handed it to him so that he could see for himself that she wasn't giving him something he didn't want. Though he seemed a little surprised by her thoughtfulness, he still looked over the glass bottle full of liquid before he handed it back to allow her to put it in his IV.

“I think I'll be sticking around for a bit longer.” Dick informed JT.

“Just go, Dick. I want to sleep. Just let me sleep.” He tried to argue but was already starting to feel groggy from the effects of the medicine.

“I'm sorry, Sir, but if he wants you to leave, I have to insist upon it.” The nurse stated quietly but firmly.

“Oh well see now I really feel like a shit head for yelling at you.” JT slurred with what normally would have been a devilish smile if not for all the bruising marring his handsome face. “You kick him the fuck out, Sweetheart and I'll never, ever yell at you again.”

She giggled and he winked at her, making Dick a little jealous. He released his hand and then bent forward to kiss his forehead only for Jason to reach up and pull him down for a long, deep kiss. After he released his face, Dick blushed brightly along with the nurse who stood with her jaw dropped before she shook her head and started to shoo him out.

“Come see me in the morning, Officer Grayson.”

 


	12. Casting Call

Chapter 12

 

January 31st

2352 hrs

 

Nightwing made a harrowing leap off the building as he gave chase to public enemy number one. The Hood was right in front of him, his own acrobatics sloppy and barely good enough to keep him alive. He was a little surprised by the unsure footing of the man he was chasing and felt sure that he'd been right all those weeks ago when arguing with Tim. This was the less experienced Red Hood, the clumsier one that should have also have been the angrier one if his theory was right.

The only problem with that theory of his was that this angrier Hood had just coldly killed a serial rapist who'd just been released from New Arkham this afternoon. The victim's crimes should have been enough to send The Red Hood into a blind fury, but it hadn't. He'd calmly walked up behind him and slit his throat. He dropped a card board sign beside the body that said: Never Will We Tolerate A Foe Within. The quote was a nod toward poet John Wilmot about rape.

If Dick's theory were more accurate than his younger brother's than the less skilled of the two Red Hood's should be easily angered and prone to barbaric torture of men like the one he'd just killed. Either way, it looked like he was right about there being more than one. With the clean leg movements, he knew this hadn't been the man that Batman faced because he was not presenting signs of 'babying' a hip wound.

The Red Hood continued his run across the snowy skyline of Gotham's worst neighborhoods. He knew he'd have to stop eventually, because his jumps were getting closer to failing and twice he'd mistimed his grappling shots, once had been a near miss. If this guy wanted to get away, he'd have to face him. Running at these heights even during a minor snow storm, like the one currently taking place, was going to get him killed.

The freezing air and the high humidity made the ground slick and a little too dangerous to be performing feats of acrobatic agility, but even so, Nightwing flipped backward to avoid The Hood's powerful swing. The Red Hood had finally decided to stand his ground on a less than structurally sound roof top. 

“Careful, Nightwing, you wouldn't want to be sidelined with the Robin.” The Red Hood taunted.

Nightwing stepped backward enough to be out of his striking range as he pulled his Eskrima sticks. He moved into a better stance to face the brawler and then gave a smirk of his own. “Don't worry about me, Red, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Well I'd hate to see you slip and fall. The great acrobat dying from busting his head open would be pretty fucking pathetic.” The Red Hood stayed back but pulled out a dagger, one that was shaped in a very distinct style. The blade had a wave that Nightwing knew was typical of the League of Assassins to carry.

Taking a running start at him, Nightwing was able to predict his opponent's next move. As The Red Hood struck high, he tucked low and rolled beneath his strikes. He struck out at his legs with the Eskrima sticks and was pleased to hear the sizzle and snap followed by an angry curse. Getting to his own feet he kicked the man in the crook of his knee and jumped onto his back and yanked The Hood's arm, painfully pinning him. The blade dropped from his hand, landing softly in the snow beside them.

“My my, what have we here?” A shiver ran down the spine of Nightwing as he recognized the voice of the Joker. The deeper tone that turned high pitched warned that he wasn't in the mood for his usual games. It also put him far too close for comfort. “I do believe it's the original Boy Wonder all grown up and,” he laughed menacingly before he continued. “and just the imposter I've been looking for!”

Nightwing moved off his captive at the same time that The Red Hood rolled and got to his feet, both men facing the Joker. The insane clown was dressed in his typical purple suit, but his dark green hair was no longer short, but rather shaggy and disheveled. Even sneering, the ever present smile was on his face and made unnaturally wide by the disfiguring scars on either side of his mouth.

“Why didn't you say so sooner? I always have time for you, Clown.” The mechanized voice snarled. Nightwing caught the glint of metal and realized that The Hood was holding his dagger. He must have picked it up when he got to his feet.

“I was so hoping you'd say that. Unfortunately for you Boy Blunder, this is a closed audition.” The Joker pulled a gun from a holster around his waist.

Nightwing was about to jump from the Joker's aim when he felt something sharp pinch his neck after two loud sounds pierced the night sky. Before he felt completely paralyzed he was sure that a mass amount of blood was spilling from his neck. Had he been shot in the neck by The Red Hood? Was he going to die? Was he paralyzed? He didn't feel the second gun bullet hit him anywhere and he partially understood that it was because The Hood had taken him down before the Joker.

“Let's keep your attention focused on the more deserving talent, shall we?” The Red Hood snapped.

The Joker laughed and simply moved his gun to point at The Red Hood. “Ruthless and cold. Inspiring but I'm just not sure it's what I'm looking for.” The man mused. “Time to die.”

“What no games? No fun to be had now that the ball and chain's been severed from your leg?” The man growled. “Who would have thought that all of your sadistic originality could be destroyed by the loss of that dumb bitch?”

Was he crazy? Nightwing couldn't believe he was actually antagonizing the killer clown. Sure he probably had some kind of Kevlar on but that wouldn't do him much good if he was shot in the head. Maybe, just maybe that helmet was more than met the eye, but Nightwing certainly wouldn't have taken that chance.

“You must be bored out of your skull without that annoying blonde bimbo feeding your ego. Do you miss those squeaky voiced, New Jersey accented compliments?” The man taunted relentlessly. “How about that shrill laughter or the way she sobbed whenever you gave her a good crack in the jaw for fucking up your plans? Does the Clown Prince of Crime miss the ol' punching bag?”

“You think this is about her?” Even as the Joker laughed, Nightwing could hear that something was off about the sound. If he didn't know better he'd think that the Joker was offended by the Red Hood's insults or was it that the focus was on Harley? It was hard to tell with the narcissistic clown.

“Or are you just pissed that I'm the one that broke her fucking heart?” The Hood demanded.“No wait, let met guess. You miss the head. I'll bet she had a nice mouth.”

The Joker's smile fell as his eyes narrowed and Nightwing felt nothing but fear at the sight. It was rare that anyone got under the Joker's skin enough to make him frown. Was it the vulgarity and implications of what Harley was to him? Was it the words alone or was it the tone? As Nightwing lie flat in the snow he saw something in the madman's eyes and knew he was trying to solving a puzzle.

“Would you look at that! ” The Red Hood said in tone that if not for the voice modifier would sound eerily like the Joker himself. “I wiped a smile off the Joker's face.”

Several shots were fired as both clown and leather clad vigilante dived to opposite sides. Nightwing couldn't move his head to see what was going on but he heard several more shots and the scuffling of bodies. Laughter rang in the air several times along with curses and grunts before one more loud shot rang out and everything became still and quiet.

“Looks like you've been cut.” The Joker snarled while managing to cackle at the same time. He walked passed Nightwing and then stopped. He feared the clown would check to see if he was really dead but instead he spoke; though to whom, Nightwing wasn't certain. “I certainly hope you're better than your stuntman or the only part you'll be playing is a silent role.”

To his relief, Nightwing heard one of his GPS beacons going off and knew that Batman had located him and was closing in on them. The Joker caught the sound emitting from his mask and laughed as he took off running to escape before the big man arrived.

As his mentor landed Nightwing was surprised that feeling was returning to his limbs. He slowly sat up and touched his neck, expecting to feel some kind of gaping wound, but instead found a tiny needle in his neck covered in red syrup of some kind. It had been a dart, probably a lot like the one he'd shot Drake with.

“Are you alright?” Batman asked as he helped him to his feet. It was evident by the man's body language that the sight he'd come in on had him rattled.

“Yeah it's not real. The Hood took me 'out' to keep Joker's shot from killing me, I think. Is he alright?”

They both turned and moved to the body of the Red Hood, blood gushing from three wound. One bullet had struck him just under the center of his clavicle and the other two had hit him right beneath his ribs on the left side. Dropping beside the man, he pressed one hand over the two rib wounds and his free hand over the third wound under his neck. He looked down into the man's helmet and begged him to stay conscious and to hold on as Batman called for a medical chopper, but the longer he went without a response, the more likely it was that he was slipping away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be immediately repeated but from the The Red Hood's perspective. My roommate insisted it was the best way to make sure you all know what's going through everyone's heads. Hopefully you all like it. Thank you so much for all the compliments and comments. You guys are awesome!


	13. Stuntman

Chapter 13

 

January 31st

2340 hrs

(twelve minutes prior to the beginning of chapter 12)

 

“Seriously, Alpha don't fuck this up.” Jason growled into his headset as he sat in the uncomfortable hospital bed, a very special laptop resting on his lap. With the program he was currently running he could see everything that Michael Sommers saw through his Red Hood helmet.

“Will you shut up?” The older man snapped irritably as he made sure the man he'd just slit the the throat of fell quietly to the ground, his left hand still covering his mouth. “I feel like a schizo with your constant chatter in my ear.”

Rolling his eyes the recovering Jason continued to watch the screen for anything his stand in might be missing while preoccupied. Thankfully it was cold and dark with most everybody taking shelter from the elements. Snow was starting to fall and he knew that while Michael was an excellent assassin and brawler, there was no way he was going to be able to take on the likes of Batman or Nightwing in this weather.

“Hey, moron, you forgetting something?” Jason snickered as he saw Alpha walking away from the now deceased body of a serial rapist.

“Oh yeah. What's with you and these stupid signs?”

“They're words of encouragement and hope.” Jason shrugged even though Michael couldn't see him at all. “That and they suggest a ritualistic nature that will lead people to believe I'm more serial killer than out of control vigilante.”

Alpha didn't continue to speak as he quickly pulled out the 8x10 sized bit of cardboard and placed it beside their victim. Jason had been waiting for this guy to get out of Arkham and it had really burned him that he wasn't the one to take him out, especially with how quickly Alpha had ended him. No torture, no rage, no chance to inspire fear. Then again, the man was a professional and nothing about this city or it's inhabitants were personal for him.

“Oh fuck, you've got Nightwing coming in.” He warned as he saw the black and blue suit leaping down from a building.

“Should I kill him?”

“NO!” Jason all but shouted. “Just fucking run. Bat's lost enough of his partners, he can't afford to lose Nightwing, too.”

At first he wasn't sure that Alpha was going to do as he said but after Dickie-Bird shouted for him to surrender, the man shot the grappling gun at the closest rooftop and took off running. He really didn't think that Michael had enough skill to pull this particular style of his off, but he also knew that there was no way he could get away from Nightwing on the streets. He'd be able to track him from said rooftops anyhow, so he saw why Alpha figured he'd just take it there to begin with.

“Easy, Alpha, you have to be careful. A lot of these roofs aren't in good shape and some will be encased in ice.”

“I've had the same training you have, JT.” Alpha snapped.

“No you haven't.” Jason muttered. They might have come from the same League, but Michael wasn't trained by the Bat and the Bat's training was site specific. It's why so many out of town crime lords couldn't cut it in Gotham. The city was unforgiving to those who didn't know her.

He felt his heart sink as for the second time the assassin didn't shoot his grappling gun at the right moment and he started to plunge to his untimely death. Letting out a relieved sigh at the same time as Alpha when the hook caught onto something, he couldn't help but berate the moron for nearly getting himself killed while demanding he stop at the next rooftop and just incapacitate Nightwing.

“I'm going to mute your mic. I'll do the talking and hopefully between my distractions and his lack of having ever faced me for longer than a few minutes, he won't notice the difference in our styles.” Jason informed his partner. “Thank God, it's not the Bat. He'd know immediately.”

“Well I am a couple inches taller than you.” Alpha agreed.

“Fuck off, you're barely an inch taller.” Jason smirked as he grabbed for his water jug and took a sip.

He watched as Alpha landed on the next roof and immediately went after Nightwing, nearly taking his head off. Luckily for Dick he decided to take a risk in this weather and flipped himself backward through the air to avoid the swing. Jason knew that if he could get just a couple of hits on his lover that he'd be able to escape with out either of them getting too damaged. 

“Careful, Nightwing, you wouldn't want to be sidelined with the Robin.” Jason taunted as Alpha took a moment to regroup as he stepped back and contemplated his enemy. Alpha was a thinker and a strategist. He needed a moment to figure out how to take him down without hurting him and Jason wanted to give him that time.

Nightwing stepped backward enough to be out of his striking range as he pulled his Eskrima sticks. He moved into a better stance to face the brawler and then gave a smirk of his own. “Don't worry about me, Red, I'm not going anywhere.”

Quickly pressing a button that made it so that only Alpha could hear him, Jason spoke. “Those sticks can emit an electrical charge, don't get hit.” He released the button and was able to speak to Nightwing again. “Well I'd hate to see you slip and fall. The great acrobat dying from busting his head open would be pretty fucking pathetic.”

The Red Hood stayed back but pulled out a dagger, one that was shaped in a very distinct style. The blade had a wave that Nightwing knew was typical of the League of Assassins to carry. Jason couldn't help but roll his eyes and hit the external mute button again. “Way to go asshole, now he knows I have League connections.”

“Guaranteed that was already a working theory.” Alpha growled as he ran forward at Nightwing, taking another swing at his face. Unfortunately, it was easily anticipated and the blue and black fighter tucked low and rolled beneath his strikes. “Shit.”Jason quickly unmuted Alpha as he grunted in pain and cursed.

“Fuck man get up quick! TURN!” Again his warnings weren't given in time as he knew Dick had just taken him down as he saw nothing but snow for a brief moment. He heard his friend snarl something under his breath but he wasn't sure what was happening and Alpha wasn't describing it to him either.

“My my, what have we here?” No. His body gave an involuntary shudder at the sound of the Joker's voice. This wasn't supposed to happen yet. He couldn't let Alpha take him on in his place. Joker would kill him.“I do believe it's the original Boy Wonder all grown up and,” he laughed menacingly before he continued. “and just the imposter I've been looking for!”

“Get to your feet now. No way Dick's not going to want your help facing him. We have to keep him distracted or he'll know you aren't me and he'll definitely kill you. Don't underestimate him. He knows where the weakest points of your armor are.”

Nightwing moved off his captive at the same time that The Red Hood rolled and got to his feet, both men facing the Joker. Jason saw him grab the knife and took a deep breath. Two men's lives were in his hands, though one didn't know it. If he fucked this up he could get both killed. He had to play this carefully but not too much or the Clown would figure it out.

“Why didn't you say so sooner? I always have time for you, Clown.” He mouthed off into the mic and wasn't at all surprised to see the Joker's eyes shift to Dick. “The smaller gun tucked in your waist band. Shoot Dick in the neck with it, now.”

“I was so hoping you'd say that. Unfortunately for you Boy Blunder, this is a closed audition.” The Joker pulled his own gun.

It felt like an eternity as Jason waited to see who would shoot Nightwing first. He was holding his breath and staring at the screen as he felt sweat beading along his brow. He heard the two shots, one from each gun and he was able to breath as he saw Dick fall to his side. No doubt the Joker's bullet had just missed him.

“Let's keep your attention focused on the more deserving talent, shall we?” He snapped, the thrill of at least saving Nightwing enough to make him a little cockier than normal.

The Joker laughed and simply moved his gun to point at The Red Hood. “Ruthless and cold. Inspiring but I'm just not sure it's what I'm looking for.” The man mused. “Time to die.”

“What no games? No fun to be had now that the ball and chain's been severed from your leg?” The man growled. “Who would have thought that all of your sadistic originality could be destroyed by the loss of that dumb bitch?”

“This is the guy you all fear?” Alpha said doubtfully. “He don't look like much to me.”

“Shut the fuck up. This isn't a game.”

Jason saw through the screen that Nightwing's shot was perfect. To Alpha, the Joker and of course any other onlooker it appeared that he'd been shot in the neck as 'blood' spilled down his throat in the white snow. Good job, Alpha. He continued on however, knowing he was playing a dangerous game that could now cost Michael Sommers his life.

“You must be bored out of your skull without that annoying blonde bimbo feeding your ego. Do you miss those New Jersey accented compliments?” The man taunted relentlessly. “How about that shrill laughter or the way she sobbed whenever you gave her a good crack in the jaw for fucking up your plans? Does the Clown Prince of Crime miss the ol' punching bag?”

“You think this is about her?” Even as the Joker laughed, Jason could hear that the clown was offended by the Red Hood's insistence on focusing on Harley Quinn. The narcissistic murderer couldn't stand to be upstaged or ignored under any circumstances, even during an act of revenge he had to be the main focus.

“Or are you just pissed that I'm the one that broke her fucking heart?” The Hood demanded.“No wait, let met guess. You miss the head. I'll bet she had a nice mouth.”

The Joker's smile fell as his eyes narrowed and all Todd felt in that moment was victory. It was rare that anyone got under the Joker's skin enough to make him frown. Was it the vulgarity and implications of what Harley was to him? Was it the words alone or was it the tone? It didn't matter, he'd gotten to him. Only time would tell if it had saved or cost a man his life.

“I'm taking him out. Enough of this crap!” Alpha snapped at him as he dropped his knife and pulled out one of the .45's.

“ Don't shoot at him or he'll come after you. He's intrigued. Don't tempt him.” Jason switched mute buttons again. “Would you look at that!” The Red Hood said in tone that if not for the voice modifier would sound eerily like the Joker himself. “I wiped a smile off the Joker's face.”

“Fuck this clown.” He heard Alpha state just as he'd finished speaking.

Gunfire echoed like thunder as Jason's eyes widened and shouted at Alpha. He couldn't believe the man had disobeyed him. He tried to warn and give him advice but he knew it was falling on def ears as the men fought. Even though he couldn't see Alpha's face he knew the man was surprised at the skill of the Joker.

It was something every fool did at least once with the clown. Even he had underestimated him in his younger years. It had cost him his life and now it just might cost Michael his. People assumed that the small Joker wasn't lean, that he wasn't any good in a physical fight or that he didn't know much about anything; he was just a freak who got lucky, but that was the real punchline.

The Joker was a genius.

After several more shots, Jason watched as the Joker came into view with that disgusting smile plastered over his face before the sky and falling snow filled his view.

“Looks like you've been cut.” The Joker snarled while managing to cackle at the same time. He watched him walk pass Nightwing before stopping from the side of the camera lens. He feared the clown would check to see if Dick was really dead but instead he spoke; and he spoke directly to him even though he couldn't possibly know who he was or where he was. “I certainly hope you're better than your stuntman or the only part you'll be playing is a silent role.”

He looked toward the door to his room and took several deep breaths, grateful that the hospital staff had yet to interrupt. All he'd done was close the blinds, figuring that he could claim he was playing an online shooter game.

Sommers would hang on, he'd survive. Right? Alpha had told him four times that he could handle the clown, that he would be ready to take him on if he actually came around during his duties.

“Alpha, Alpha talk to me.” He tapped the mic on his headset knowing that it would be one of the most irritating sounds he could create, but his colleague didn't respond. He could see and then hear Dick moving around. “I need to know if you are alive, Alpha, you have to say something, anything.”

Michael Sommers had only been too eager to come in and help out and it was what Jason had wanted, too. While Jason alone had come to Gotham and planned everything out, he'd called upon the help of his League of Assassin's colleague to set everything else up. All the financial information, his new identity, the the will, the construction company, all of it had been handled by the man known as Alpha.

He'd waited only a couple of hours after Dick had left the morning before to call Sommers in to play Red Hood while he was recuperating. If the masked vigilante stopped coming around while JT Bennet was stuck in a hospital the whole Bat Clan would realize it in a heart beat. There had to be someone running around as The Red Hood and Michael had been the perfect choice.

“Alpha?” He deactivated the detonation switch that would no doubt take the wearers head off along with the hand of whatever EMS worker that tried to remove it. He watched as Batman and Nigthwing came into view.

“Hang on, don't let go.” He heard Dick's voice through his headset and sighed. If Goldie had that tone, things weren't looking good for his associate's survival. “Hurry!” Dick shouted to someone. “I think he's dying.”

Biting at his lip Jason had to think quickly about his next move. He had to make them think there was some sign of life so that the damned workers wouldn't give up on him halfway through the trip. He better say something now before the helmet came off and he wasn't able to speak for his friend anymore. He pressed the mic key.

“He'll pay...He'll fucking pay.” He added a bit of his own grunting and was pleased by the reactions they had to hearing the mechanized voice. He watched them scramble from his laptop view to save his life. Unfortunately that included removing the helmet and ending any further monitoring from him. All he could do now was wait.

Shutting down the laptop and removing the headset, he returned it to the backpack that Sommers had brought him just before being told where the suit was. He cursed himself inwardly as he replayed the events. He knew the clown would be gunning for him. He'd been unseen for too long and was simply waiting for the right time to attack.

He ran his hands through his thick shaggy hair and frowned. Maybe he shouldn't have taunted the killer so much about Harley. It may have just cost another man his life; a man who wasn't apart of this and hadn't deserved Joker's wrath.

A knock at the door warned of a nurse's entry. He dropped his hands and glared at the woman walking in. “Don't be giving me those looks, Mr. Bennet, you know they won't change a thing.” She chuckled good naturedly. “Besides, I'm here to let you know that the doctor on staff has given us permission to remove the catheter.”

His cheeks burned red as he looked away. Gay or not, he didn't like anyone, including females, knowing he had a piss tube shoved up his dick. At least it was coming out, he supposed he could begrudge her a thank you for the good news. His frown returned when he saw a young medical technician walking in with several plastic tubes.

“What the fuck is this?” JT demanded.

“We need to do a few more blood tests.” The nurse informed him.

“Guess you failed to mention that.” He returned to his glare and even bared his teeth a bit as the girl started to come forward. He was pleased by her small squeak and quick step backward. Her face a perfect expression of intimidation sought out the nurse with eyes that begged to be relieved of the task.

“Oh that's enough out of you, Mr. Bennet. She's just doing her job, now quit that snarling or I'll leave the catheter in for your entire stay.” The nurse threatened and quite effectively, too.

Feeling thoroughly neutered, JT turned his head away and offered his arm to the nervous med-tech. It didn't take long for her to collect the samples and even he had to admit there wasn't a problem with what they were doing. He was just being an ass because he didn't know what was happening out there. Guilt was making him cranky and unwilling to cooperate.

Only three more days. He reminded himself internally. Three more days and he'd be released from the hospital to try to sort out all of this mess with Bennet Construction, The City of Gotham, Michael Sommers, The Joker and of course the Bat Family. He wasn't sure that made him feel better, if anything it did the opposite. Perhaps he shouldn't be looking at his time in the hospital as a prison sentence, but rather a stay of execution.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there ya go. I hope that experiment wasn't a failure. Happy Reading! I should have the next chapter out by Christmas!


	14. Bruises

Chapter 14

 

February 1st

2140 hrs

 

Bruce Wayne smiled to the cameras and winked at a reporter or two. He hated this act, but it was necessary. He'd just left a charity dinner and was heading to his car when he felt a wave of nausea roll through him. It was triggered by the unexpected dizziness that assaulted his senses. A few cameramen were looking at him with puzzled looks.

“I suppose I should have stopped at my fourth glass of champagne.” He grinned mischievously before sliding into the back seat of his town car.

“What was that, Bruce?” Tim demanded as he slid into the car not even half a minute later. The young man sat beside him and buckled up.

“I drank too much.” Bruce lied.

“You don't ever drink. You just toss the alcohol when no one is looking.” Tim accused, his blue eyes focused heavily on his mentor and guardian. “Please, Bruce, you have to tell me whats going on.”

As Alfred pulled away he looked into the rear view mirror and tried to will Bruce to tell the young man what was happening. Bruce simply looked out the window and ignored them both. He wasn't dying and everything was fine. They both needed to lay off for a bit, especially now that his headache was spreading.

“I know I am not as quick as you, Bruce, but I am as smart and it's not going to take me long to determine exactly what's wrong with you.” Timothy warned him. “I'd rather you trust me enough to tell me what's going on, but if you won't, I'll find out on my own.”

There was a brief consideration on Bruce's part but he just wasn't up for the conversation with the ringing in his ears and the aching in his temples. It would be best to change the subject. “How is Sommers doing?”

“It took several surgeries but he'll survive. As soon as the doctors clear him, which should be in five to seven days, the police will take him into custody. Until he is tried, Gotham PD will keep him in the infirmary of their jailhouse.” Tim reported, ignoring the fact that Bruce had switched topics on him.

“That's not a wise decision.” Alfred stated from the driver's seat.

“I agree. They won't be able to hold him. Michael Sommers is called Alpha amongst the League of Assassins and if he wants to leave he will.” Bruce frowned. “He's as adept as any of us at escaping and I doubt he'll be in there forty-eight hours before he disappears on them.”

“Even wounded as he is?” Tim frowned.

“We are no longer going to look at him as The Red Hood but as a member of the League of Assassins with an entire unit of men at his command.” Bruce stated gravely. “This means there are larger forces at bay and we should be prepared for them to make a full assault on the city.” He paused momentarily and then gave the boy a smirk. “You should be proud, Tim, you were right that it wasn't Slade Wilson.”

He could tell the boy took no consolation from his comment. Instead he could see him delve deep within himself as he tried working on another puzzle that was agitating him. Had he gone back to trying to figure out what was ailing him or was there something about the case that was distracting him? He wasn't ashamed to admit that he hoped it was the latter.

“Do you really believe that Michael Sommers is the Red Hood?” Tim asked softly.

“It was him under the mask.” Bruce chuckled. “Or are you beginning to think there might have been two men? Honestly Tim, with the League, there could be dozens of Red Hoods. We'll just have to wait and see if more start popping up in his place.”

“Something about the exchange is bothering me.” The teenager confessed. “The Joker had a chance to kill The Red Hood during my encounter with the two, but he didn't and The Red Hood seemed accepting of that, like he knew him.

“During this more recent confrontation he said all the right things to both Joker and Nightwing, but his movements seemed,” He paused and shook his head before looking to him and shrugging. “off?

“He seemed like he was stalling, like he was riling up the Joker but then he attacked in an almost impatient way? It doesn't make sense to me that he would have been so careless, like he didn't really think the clown was a threat.

“Let's not forget that during his fight with Nightwing he was sloppy when trying to escape. The night all three of us faced him, he seemed to know Gotham and how to manuever about the buildings and where to shoot his grappling gun whereas this guy didn't seem comfortable at all with the terrain or the gear.

“Oh! And then there's the matter of his cold efficiency in dealing with the serial rapist. Even Nightwing was thrown off by how calmly he slit his throat. He wasn't angry or passionate and that just feels very wrong.”

“With all due respect, Tim, I think you're giving this guy more credit than you should. When you faced him and Joker the lighting was too dim to have known if his fighting style was the same.” Bruce disagreed. “You say he isn't cold and efficient, but he poisoned Hush without losing his temper, he shot Deadshot without getting enraged and he dropped Harley with barely a snarl. The only thing we've ever seen him get truly angry about is sexual crimes and again it could have been someone else during those two instances.

“So yes, I suppose you could be right that this isn't the one we've seen in some of the films but that's why we need to start looking for the League.”

He watched as his teenaged ward fiddled with his cast, his dark blue eyes staring down at the floorboard of the car. He knew from experience that he'd pointed out something that Tim hadn't thought of and was now processing. Of all of his students, Timothy was his most talented at critical thinking. He wasn't brash or impatient and he never assumed things would just work out.

With the sharp pain in his temples, Bruce closed his eyes and let his head rest against the seat while his third Robin focused on something other than him. He was happy for the reprieve but he knew it wouldn't last. Timothy Drake was persistent and unyielding. Bruce wouldn't be surprised at all if upon arriving home Barbara and Dick were there to assist in the interrogation.

Despite Alfred's disapproval over his silence, the butler stood firm in preventing Timothy from bothering him when they arrived home. He insisted on Drake heading down to the cave to give support to Barbara and to let 'Master Bruce' get some much needed sleep. Clearly the boy believed he was seriously ill or he might have argued further.

As he climbed the stairs, Tim leveled him with a glare that warned that this conversation would not be avoided much longer. It had the soft edge of concern but was reinforced with a frustrated promise of stubbornness on the young man's part.

* * *

 

Dick sat in his untidy apartment on his black leather couch, staring down at his cell phone. JT had been texting him for the past four hours demanding he come and end his boredom. Unfortunately for both of them he'd been working for the GCPD and as much as Dick wanted to see him, he knew he couldn't. With Robin and Batman out of action, Nightwing had to go on patrol.

He finally started moving his thumbs over the screen as he explained that he had to work a double to cover a guy who'd been injured on the job. He was about to text an apology when he received one from JT demanding he tell his chief to go straight to Hell and come down to the hospital. He had to admit he was tempted but the city needed him, especially with an even more unstable Joker on the loose and apparently the League of Assassins in the city.

From JT: Guess what's not bruised?

From Dick: What?

He waited for nearly two minutes until he received a lewd picture. Despite being home alone he felt his cheeks burning red at the sight of JT's penis. He couldn't believe the younger man was that horny despite being stuck in a hospital for the past couple of days. He knew he'd never been able to get hard when he was that beat up. Or maybe he just didn't have the right stimuli.

From JT: I named it.

From Dick: You named your penis?

From JT: Yeah.

From Dick: Oook. I don't think I need to know that.

From JT: Sure you do. Your ass has been intimately acquainted with Dick for a while now.

From Dick: YOU DIDN'T!!!!

From JT: Funny, right?

From Dick: You are so immature.

From JT: Cum see me. Ha ha.

Dick bit his lip as he looked to his clock and sighed. Bruce and Tim should be home from the charity event by now. Maybe he would call it a night. He was very tired and he just wasn't sure he could safely fight against the criminals of Gotham city tonight. Besides it looked like it was starting to snow and it definitely wouldn't be wise of him to be vaulting off roof tops.

After checking the weather report he grimaced. A blizzard was currently blowing in and it definitely would not be wise. Even mother nature seemed to be siding with JT on this one. He quickly sent off a text message to Tim telling him that due to the inclement weather he would staying in. Receiving a text message in return was a little surprising, but that he wasn't arguing with him was even more so. Tim was not only fine with him not patrolling, but happy that everyone was going to get a break so that he could do some research.

Once more he felt like all the planets were beginning to align. He should take advantage of the situation and go see his lover. He got up from the couch, setting his phone down, and grabbed a back pack and quickly filled it with clothes and a pillow. After he was changed out of his GCPD uniform and was dressed in his riding leathers he grabbed his helmet and picked his phone up off the coffee table.

From Dick: Alright, you big baby. You win. On my way now.

From JT: 8==D O-:

 

* * *

 

Jason smirked at his text and then went back to Michael Sommers message and read it again. The man was going to survive but he was also going to be arrested. An extraction was going to be the only way to save him from rotting in a Gotham prison and he couldn't blame him for wanting to get out of town fast. Thankfully they had a few days to figure that all out.

Even with a nasty winter storm moving in he had no doubt that the League of Assassins would be capable of performing a quick rescue. The only thing he couldn't be sure of was whether or not they would do so. Sometimes the League was family and sometimes they had your back, but other times the League was your enemy and would sooner kill you than protect you.

Michael insisted that he do the talking because he was convinced Jason would only get him killed. Technically, Jason was still a member, but he was doing things without full approval or backing from the League. Not that he cared, but apparently a few people in charge weren't terribly impressed with his work so far.

Ra's al Ghul on the other hand was deeply so. He had come into town to wish him luck and even offered the use of a small unit should the need arise. The Demon Head had always looked on the Bat Clan with respect, but Jason was the first that saw things similarly to how the League did. The fact that he was the Detective's second son was the only reason he felt that Ra's had ever put up with his mouth. The fact that was he was as aggressive a killer as the Demon himself was the only reason he'd trained and backed him financially.

He set his phone down to the side of him and waited for Dick by turning on the news. After the weather report warning of a bad storm they continued to go over other events that didn't interest him. It was when they were going over the charity event and listing off Gotham's elite along with a few seconds of footage of each, that he started paying attention. His brow creased when he watched Bruce Wayne walk out of the party and then stumble. He laughed it off with a joke about his drinking habits, but Jason knew better.

There was a lot of bad blood between him and 'Daddy Bats' but he didn't want to watch the man die. That wasn't part of the plan at all. If anything, the longer Bruce lived, the longer Jason could rub it in his face that his way was the right way. He needed to prove to him that there was nothing wrong with valuing the lives of the innocent over the lives of monsters.

“JT?”

He looked to the door where Dick was walking in. He was carrying a face helmet and wearing an outfit that made him ache in the most vulgar of ways. The black leather that was wrapped around his lover's body was tight and very complimentary to the lithe figure of his acrobat. Why had he ever thought that this would be awkward after Dick's confession of brotherly love? With an ass like that, he'd have fucked him if they actually were blood brothers! Ok, maybe not, but it didn't matter because they weren't related.

“You looked upset.” Dick smiled and Jason felt caught up in the light of a smile he used to resent with every fiber of his being.

“Oh yeah, the news was just showing your buddy stumbling around on the red carpet.” Jason shrugged, his eyes trying to focus on one single point. There was just too much to take in for him to look him in the eyes and so he stared unabashedly at his hips and torso mostly.

“Bruce?” Dick frowned. “He stumbled? Was he drunk?”

“Was who what?” Jason hadn't paid an iota of attention to whatever the Hell Dick had said.

“Good God, JT, will you stop.” Dick laughed self-consciously. “You're making me feel like a piece of meat.”

“Sorry, it's just that I didn't know you could look like that.” He admitted. “I mean, I thought the cop uniform was sexy, but these riding leathers are just,” He shook his head and shrugged. “Wow.”

Blushing, Dick dropped his backpack near the wall and took a seat in the recliner beside his bed. The two were quiet for a moment as Jason smiled from ear to ear and Dick bit at his bottom lip and stared down at the white tile floor.

Finally, Dick looked back up at him and all Jason could focus on were his lips. “Thanks. Are you in any pain?”

“No, why?”

“Well, most people feel the full effects of their injuries a day or two after the fact and judging by the swelling and the discoloration I would think you'd be in too much agony to send me a dick pic.”

Jason laughed loudly at first, but the pain Dick had been referring to reared its ugly head and caused his chest, throat and jaw to ache. He tried to prevent himself from grimacing but knew he'd failed the moment he looked into those concerned puppy dog eyes. “Don't fucking baby me.” He warned as he raised his hand. “I'm fine.”

“I shouldn't have made you laugh, JT, I'm sorry.” Dick apologized.

Rolling his eyes, he had no other recourse but to flip off the older man as he started to cough from the painful itching in his chest. If he had contracted pneumonia he was going to sue the shit out of this hospital and it's network. He refused to look weak in front of the Golden Boy and he tried to suppress the coughing.

As he got control, he was starting to snap at Dick for looking at him like he was a damned glass doll but he was instantly calmed by the soothing touch of his cold fingertips running through his hair. He felt like one of those dogs after their owner had found that magical spot on their belly. Wait, dogs weren't that cool. He was like the crocodile who had that spot right between his eyes rubbed. He was paralyzed with pleasure and the fact that it wasn't sexual was even more amazing to him.

“You really like it when I do that, don't you?”

“Figured that out on your own, did ya?” While his words were harsh his tone was jovial and he knew as Dick continued to play with his hair that his rude comeback was forgiven.

 


	15. Chili Dogs & Hero Complexes

Chapter 15

 

February 3rd

15:15hrs

 

Michael Sommers opened his eyes to see Jason Todd standing in his hospital room, dressed casually as the construction working CEO, JT Bennet. It was hard to believe at times that the boy was just barely 21 years old. Not that he looked haggard or old, but there was a coldness in his eyes that simply made you believe he was older. He looked pretty multi-colored from the bruising, but at least it was starting to fade.

“Risking a lot coming to see me.” He grunted.

“Not really, I'm better at this shit than people think, plus I conned an old contact of ours into hacking the security cameras and putting this room on a loop of you sleeping. No one will know I stopped by.” The shrug was irritating to him; probably because he'd always been irritated by the boy's seemingly nonchalant ways.

“What do you want?”

“They're coming to get you. You won't be serving any time in Blackgate or Arkham.” His tone instantly changed from cocky brat to somber colleague. “I told you I wouldn't let you go down for my crimes, that I'd do whatever I had to should anything go wrong.”

“Jesus, Jason, what do you owe them now?” Michael frowned. “You know you don't want to be indebted to the League.”

“Oh please. They're as giddy as school girls at a fucking Bieber concert. The shit I'm doing here in Gotham is going to work far better than any League wide invasion ever has.” That crooked smile spread across his youthful face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Plus there's the added bonus that I get to fuck with Batman without killing him and that makes Ra's happy.”

With a snort, Michael supressed a laugh. “They gonna kill me?”

“Of course not, you idiot. If they were gonna do that they'd just tell the Joker you were alive and where to find you. No need to send an extraction team in just to take you out in a hospital.” Jason smirked.

Relief flooded his hurt and tired body. “I can't believe that guy could hit like that. Who knew?”

“I knew.” The younger man glared, losing his easy-going temperament in a matter of seconds. “It's why I told you not to fucking shoot him!”

“Well what the Hell did you want me to do?” The assassin argued. “Was I supposed to wait until you pissed him off to the point of him just gunning me down?”

“Actually I was stalling, you fuck! I needed Dick to wake his happy ass up so that you could both take him on without either of you getting badly injured!” The younger retorted angrily.

“What?” Alpha tried to sit up but grimaced and leaned back against his bed instead. “Why the Hell did you have me shoot him, then?”

With a roll of his eyes and an expression that made it all to clear what Jason thought of Michael's intelligence, he waved his arms emphatically. “Because he was going to shoot Dick and with the clown you never know if it's going to be a bullet that flies out or a fucking flag that says BANG!”

“Considering the three bullets in my body, I suppose it's safe to assume it wouldn't have been a flag.” He returned the attitude with his own glare.

“Look, man I don't want you dead, but I sure as Hell wasn't about to let my pseudo-brother/boyfriend get killed!”

“You know, you have the weirdest fucking relationships of anyone I know.” Michael closed his eyes deciding not to let the kid get under his skin. “Just remind me to never try to fill your shoes again.”

After several moments of silence he opened his eyes, figuring that the young man had walked out and left the room. The athletic figure of Jason Todd remained however, as his eyes were focused on the floor, there was pain as he seemed to be thinking about something heavier than he thought the kid was capable of.

“I nearly got you killed.” He finally spoke in a quiet tone. “Whatever I owe the League for this, is more than worth the cost of keeping you alive and free after everything you've done for me.

“You've actually helped me far more than you know by fucking up so badly.” He smirked but the smile wasn't sincere with all the guilt marring his face. “Thanks to you, not only am I not even on the Bat's radar, but The Red Hood will be presumed gone until I can get back to killing scumbugs. You've bought me more time to heal than our original plan would have.”

“And you feel bad about that, don't you?” Michael realized. “You feel guilty that this worked out better for you in the long run.” When he didn't answer, Michael knew he was right. “Who would have though the foul-mouthed shit head had a heart?”

“Fuck you. I'm outta here.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of dark wash jeans and started to turn toward the door. He paused however and smirked. “Good luck to you, Alpha. Thanks for all of your help. Really.”

“Oh don't worry, _JT_ , you'll be getting my bill.” Michael smiled as he let his eyes close again. More than feeling alleviation from knowing he was about to be rescued was the serene thought that he could trust Jason Todd. He hadn't stabbed him in the back like Talia had insisted he would and he hadn't left him behind to die at the hands of his enemies like Nyssa had warned.

* * *

February 3rd

1802 hrs

 

Dick walked into the greasy diner and smiled at a few waitresses who stopped what they were doing to look at him. He felt his cheeks flush and he wondered if or when he would stop reacting that way. He didn't mind it, but he didn't like encouraging it either. As they continued their work and waited for him to find a seat he scanned the restaurant for JT.

There were six or seven tables taken, but his party was no where to be seen. He couldn't help but be disappointed at the thought that he might have been stood up. Then again, he checked his watch, maybe he had arrived early or late. According to the digital device he was right on time.

“You mind getting out the doorway? I think my dick is about to fall off.” He turned in surprise to see JT smirking behind him, shivering in a black hoodie that was definitely not suitable for the freezing temperatures of Gotham in February.

Chuckling, Dick stepped aside and then leaned over to kiss JT's cheek, who grumbled in response. The younger man looked a lot better now that he was no longer lying down and in an ugly white and blue hospital gown. The bruising on his face was a wide range of purple, yellow and green hues. His entire left eye was black and his lip was cracked down the right side just opposite of the scar on the left; and yet he still carried a rebellious, cocky attitude that implied that he was ready to face any adversary.

It hadn't surprised Dick at all to find that he was still conscious when they'd arrived to rescue him. Nor had it really shocked him to hear that he'd been quite the smart ass. JT's sense of humor was warped at best. It was just a part of who he was and he doubted that even a few torture sessions with Black Mask could alter that about his personality. He was just one of those arrogant guys that thought they'd survive anything.

A second tremble from the cold reminded Grayson that his lover's abundance in self-assurance could one day cost him his life. What kind of fool walked around dressed in the bare minimum of winter clothing?

“Where's your coat?” Dick demanded as they both started to walk toward an empty booth in the back. “Why would you come out here like this?”

“I just left the hospital.” JT shrugged his shoulders and started for the seat that faced the door, but seemed to think better of it and took the opposite side instead. “My big work coat got destroyed by that freak's gang and this is the only other coat I own.”

Dick couldn't help but laugh as he took the seat facing the door. He was secretly relieved to be where he was. In the Bat Clan you never let you back be toward an exit or opening. Unless of course Bruce was around, or in Tim's case if he was around. It felt completely unnatural to have his back so vulnerable and he never felt safe that way. Again, with Bruce being the one exception.

“JT, you can afford a penthouse; why didn't you stop and grab a coat on the way here?” He paused and frowned. “You didn't walk here from the hospital, did you?”

“So what if I did? I was fucking hungry, Dick.” He explained. “Do you know how fucking bad hospital chow tastes? I need real food, asap.” Impatiently, JT looked around for one of the three waitresses. “Speaking of which,” with a sharp whistle he caught the attention of all three. “Can we get some service over here?”

Mortified, Dick felt himself shrinking in his seat as two of the women glared at them. He put a hand to his forehead and then ran it through his hair. “Oh my God, you are so embarrassing.”

JT only laughed as a waitress with short red hair approached and took out a pad and paper. “What can I get you?” She asked in a flat tone.

“I want six chili-dogs, extra chili, extra cheese with a large side of fries and a coke.” Dick's eyes widened in disbelief at the amount of food that Bennet was ordering for himself. “And Dick here wants, what a salad?”

Rolling his soft blue eyes Dick shook his head. “Actually I'd like a bowl of the clam chowder, a side salad with ranch and a cup of half coffee and half hot-chocolate.” As soon as the waitress left, Dick couldn't help but gawk at his friend. “Are you seriously going to eat six chili-dogs?”

“Yeah, I'll probably have to order a pizza later, but I don't want to pig out. People tell me it's gross.” He answered sincerely.

“You know, I'm a junk food junkie myself, but six chili dogs? Don't tell me you eat that kind of garbage on a regular basis.” JT only nodded in response. “But look at your body! There's no way you can stay in that good of shape and eat that kind of food.”

Dick didn't exaggerate about his eating habits, but he also had a wicked work out routine that enabled him to eat what he wanted. Between working for the police and Bruce Wayne, he was constantly on the move. Even as a construction worker, he just didn't think it was possible for JT to maintain the fantastic physique that he did while eating like a linebacker.

Then again, it wasn't like JT was a lean runner; he was as tall as Bruce and only a little leaner. He was built like a brick wall which meant that he had to have some other kind of physically active hobby or a work out just as intense as Dick's. Some people worked hard to eat how they wanted, maybe JT Bennet was one of those kind of guys.

After a couple minutes the waitress returned with the two drinks and set them down before leaving to take care of other customers. They both sat quietly, Dick occasionally sipping from his nicely sweetened coffee and JT guzzling down his coke. He set the large plastic tumbler down on the table; empty save for the leftover ice.

“How are you feeling?” He decided to break the silence and couldn't help but hope that JT would be willing to open up to him. It had to have been a frightening experience, especially for someone who wasn't from around here. Only the locals seemed to shrug off this kind of experience and even then it was only the more battle-hardened locals.

“Sore from the bruises, aching from the fractured bones and hyped up from the sugar and caffeine rush.” Dick felt the distinct need to kick him in the shin as he watched him shrug his shoulders. It was a response that was starting to bug him.

“It's hard to believe you are the owner of an entire construction company sometimes, you know that?” Dick pointed out.

“Why because I still act like my age?”

“And what age is that exactly?”

“Don't worry, you're not breaking any laws, Officer.” Was JT's retort.

“Seriously, JT, how old are you.” He tried again.

“I'm old enough to drink.”

“Barely.” Dick argued. “I looked you up, and you turned twenty one only a few months ago!”

“Then what the fuck are you asking me for?” JT sat back against the booth seat and shook his head. “Don't do that. Don't ask questions that we both know that you have the answers to. Ask me things that fucking matter. Who gives a shit how old I am?”

“I'm sorry.” He apologized. “I'm sure you get that a lot.”

“Yeah, I do. I get it from banks, I get it from project managers and my own guys and it sucks. I didn't ask for the old man to die and leave everything to me. I had gotten my welding certification and was excited to make good money; I was just a grunt at a completely different construction company trying to start from the bottom.” As he spoke Dick watched his face and felt something akin to pity wash over him. “No one trusted me and no one wanted me in charge. I was not only foreign to them, but I didn't have the experience. I still don't, I'm still learning as I go and that's got everyone nervous.

“Now some dick, no offense, in a mask comes around and destroys everything I'd worked so hard to get. You know we're gonna lose the contract with the city? After I got kidnapped every single investor but your old man pulled out and when he backs out too, I'll be stuck with the bill.”

“Wait, does that mean you're leaving Gotham?” Dick frowned in alarm as the waitress returned with a refill for JT.

Taking a sip from his coke, Dick knew he was avoiding answering until he finally reverted to his usual method of muted answer. His teal eyes looked away as he guzzled down the carbonated beverage.

“You can't leave Gotham, Bruce was really impressed by the project! He may even fund it himself!”

“Don't you dare.” JT pointed a finger at him, his face grave and his eyes narrowed. “I don't want any fucking handouts from you or your old man, got it?”

“Stop being so arrogant. Maybe this is about the good your work was doing for the city! What makes you think I'd even want you around?” Dick snapped without too much conviction.

“You mean besides the fact that you visited me everyday in the hospital like twice a day?” The other chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, I can tell you think you're falling for me. It's best that I cut and run before you become some kind of stalker.”

Even though Dick knew it was said in jest, he was also aware of the truth in his words. He wasn't a stalker of course, but he was falling for JT and so far the laborer had done little to encourage that kind of sentiment. He complimented him on his looks, he enjoyed being touched by him and maybe sharing a couple meals at the hospital, but otherwise he showed absolutely no interest in his personal life.

During his stay in the hospital JT had never once asked how his shift went or how his day was going. It was about dirty pictures, teasing insults and compliments, fast and hurried touches and hisses of pain and pleasure. There was no indication on his side of things that he wanted anything more than a fuck buddy and that was starting to bother Dick.

“Don't get all fucking pouty on me.” JT sighed. “I'm not necessarily leaving, I just don't know if I can move down here like I planned with this project being dumped. I don't want to be handed a project, I want to earn it and if they think I can't do the work, than maybe I can't.

“None of my guys even want to work this project anymore. They're afraid they'll be killed by...What the fuck was the guy's name?”

“Black Mask. We don't know his actual identity.” Dick answered. It wasn't a complete lie. GCPD really didn't have a clue who Black Mask was. Nightwing on the other hand...“Look, I know things look bad and you don't want to get through this with anyone's help. I just don't want you to give up.”

“Are you always this damned optimistic?” At first Dick thought he was putting him down until he looked up and saw a reluctant smile spread across JT's face. “Seriously, it's like talking to an after school special.”

“You're real funny.” Dick stuck his tongue out at him just as the waitress arrived with the food. As soon as she left to refill JT's coke, he smiled at him. “I told you before, you'll get used to me.”

“I think seeing you frown might break my heart.” JT blurted and by the dark red color in his cheeks, Dick knew he immediately regretted it. “I...” He grabbed a fork and quickly shoved a mountain of chili into his mouth.

“You didn't mean for that to be said aloud.” Dick smiled openly. “I'll forget I heard it if you promise to let me take you back to your place.”

Swallowing hard, JT grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

* * *

February 4th

11:06 hrs

 

“Where were you?” Bruce demanded as Dick arrived in the bat-cave. “We've been trying to contact you since two this morning.”

Trying not to sound snippy, Dick replied calmly. “My phone died and I didn't have my charger on me. You know you can page me in emergencies. Since you didn't, I assume that whatever happened last night, isn't that big of a deal.”

“Maybe not, but it could become one.” Timothy frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest, his cast resting awkwardly on top of the healthy arm. “Michael Sommers was removed from the hospital by the League of Assassins.”

His eyes widening Dick stepped forward to see the footage he knew they must have had on the large computer monitor. Sure enough, the monitor appeared to be split into a couple dozen or so different views and at exactly 01:32, every single camera showed signal loss. It wasn't hard to guess that as soon as the cameras were turned back on that Michael was gone from his room and nothing was left behind as to whether or not he'd been taken by force or willingly.

“The only clue that we had of the League's confirmed presence was this one clip.” Bruce explained and the dozens of camera views were reduced to one. Standing at the reception desk was Ra's al Ghul himself. He talked with the patient administrator for a mere eight minutes before he politely inclined his head, looked directly at the camera and then turned to leave.

“So what are we going to do?” Dick asked with a frown. “Do we believe that they will continue to have these little Red Hoods running around?”

“That man was not The Red Hood.” Tim stated firmly.

“Not this again, Timmy.” He sat down in a chair beside his brother. “Just who do you think this guy is? Now he's too good to be the man we actually caught with the mask and before he wasn't good enough to Slade Wilson. Do you have someone in mind?”

“Yes.” Bruce looked to Tim curiously. “I try not to make guesses unless I am fairly certain that I am right, and I know that neither of you are going to like my theory anymore than I liked Dick's theory.”

“We know that Michael Sommers was one of The Red Hoods, we know that, Timmy. There's no doubt about it.” Dick argued.

Bruce stared at his youngest thoughtfully. He couldn't begin to imagine who the boy suspected the criminal to be, but he'd been adamant on several occasions that he and Dick were wrong about their suspects. Anytime he'd tried to get Tim to tell him who then it could be, the teenager insisted that despite not knowing for sure who it was, the man was someone familiar, someone closer to home than they would want to admit. For a while, Bruce wondered he was thinking of clones, especially after meeting his current best friend Kon-El. He'd even considered the idea, but to clone himself specifically, Lex would have to know that Bruce Wayne was Batman.

“There's plenty of doubt!” Tim exclaimed. “This is the first time we've seen that dagger come out! Maybe the League owed him a favor?”

“What?” Even Bruce had to admit that was a bit of leap for the boy-genius to make. “The League doesn't do favors.”

“Just let me finish!” Tim begged, his blue eyes finding those of his father's. “I'm on to something, I know it.”

Feeling his head begin to ache, Bruce decided not to argue further and nodded. “Go ahead, Tim.”

Worried glances between the brothers quickly and silently communicated their concern for their mentor. It wasn't like Bruce to cave so easily and he knew they recognized the display as one of weakness and exhaustion. He knew they were planning to meet up later for a discussion but he couldn't make himself act any differently. He was in pain, a lot of it and he just couldn't force himself to move past it this time.

Taking a deep breath, Tim started. “My theory is that the person we are looking for has ties to the League of Assassins but is not actually a member. He's someone who knows them well and understands their mentality, someone who agrees with most of their ideals and methods.

“Michael Sommers was not The Red Hood and I don't believe there was ever more than one. I think it was the same guy throughout. I told you guys to look at him like he was one of us and that's when it clicked.” Tim paused as Dick shook his head and Bruce frowned. “It _is_ one of us. One of the Justice League or maybe even one of the Teen Titans. It has to be. This person knows certain areas of Gotham, he knows how we fight, he knows how all of Gotham's villains fight.”   
“So how did the League of Assassins get involved?” Dick asked, still not wishing to believe that a former friend or comrade was capable of such harsh brutality. “How did Michael Sommers end up under the mask?”

“Easy, the real Hood was injured.” Tim reminded him. “The Joker hurt him and even Bruce can attest to the loss of range of motion. He noticed it almost immediately. He needed someone to take his place so that we wouldn't figure out who he was, that he was out of action and start looking for people with similar injuries, especially in Bennet's construction crew.”

“Bennet's crew? You guys are investigating JT's men?” Dick frowned.

“Of course we are.” Bruce answered. “Why wouldn't we? I even looked into JT myself.” Upon seeing Dick's eyes narrow he started to shake his head but quit when he got dizzy. “I don't believe it's him. He checked out with Oracle, but it's definitely someone he hired in November or at the least someone who knows one of the crewman hired in November.”

“So it's also someone with ties to the Assassins? Shouldn't that be even easier to track?” Dick asked Tim.

“Not necessarily. The League is careful. I think we need to ignore that link for now and start investigating members of the vigilante teams we've been a part of.” Tim explained. “It will be a gross invasion of privacy, but that's never mattered to us before.”

“I'll get Oracle on it immediately.” Bruce agreed. “It's a stretch, but honestly, it's the only lead we have right now.”

“You can't be serious.” His oldest stood and stared at them both as if they were monsters. “This isn't the right theory. They are our friends and comrades, we have to trust them. We have to.”

“Son, you aren't looking at this the right way.” Bruce sighed as he pressed his hand to his temple, his eyes set in glare or was it more like a wince of pain? “We know it's not Oliver, Barry, Wally, or the Kents. It could however, be Roy Harper or-

“No.” Dick shook his head firmly. “No you aren't going down this road, you know why? Because the young men you are about to name don't move like The Hood, they don't use the same weapons as The Hood and they don't talk like The Hood.

“What, you think Roy Harper is going to completely set aside his skill with the bow and arrow just to fight with us? You think one of the Lanterns will stop using their rings to keep their identities secret? You guys want this new theory to fit but this time it's you two who are wrong.

“Look from within, fine, but let's be honest. Who has the skills to move like he does over the skyline of Gotham? Who has been trained to fight metas, freaks and regular old human bad guys? Who has the motivation to kill Gotham's scum? You want to turn the microscope on someone? Then we need to look into the men we've trained, or admit it's just a bunch of League of Assassin members switching places under the mask or that it's Deathstroke and a new apprentice.”

When Bruce smiled, both of his partners frowned. “Then you won't mind me looking into the GCPD task force, SWAT teams, homicide detectives and anyone newly hired with them in November? Tim, I'll also need a list of men who returned from the military in November. I'll have Oracle look into our typical suspects from New Arkham.”

“Whoa, guys, wait-

Bruce lifted his hand and shook his head. “Sorry, Dick, but I've made my decision on this. Tim's idea held merit until you pointed out the flaws of weaponry. No member of the Justice League or Teen Titans uses guns like The Red Hood does, nor do any of them kill. It makes the most sense for us to look into Police, Military and anyone with specialized training that fits his style.”

“I can agree that none of our people use guns or have really shown an interest and so maybe the others aren't suspect, but I know this guy is Gotham native through and through which means he can't possibly be Slade.” Tim looked to his older brother, hoping he wasn't still angry that his friends and co-workers were going to be investigated.

Dick's blue eyes remained lowered for several minutes of silence as he forced himself to get right with this decision. As Tim had pointed out, they'd always been suspicious and paranoid. Every time someone new approached the Justice League or the Teen Titans, they did thorough investigations into each of them and it had never bothered him before.

Same went with Gotham's police force. Hell, Gordon still gave Batman monthly reports of suspicious behavior amongst the different departments because of how easy it was for the criminal element to corrupt his men. Even JT hadn't been willing to trust the rookie detective because he'd convinced himself that the man worked for the Black Mask.

“Maybe you guys are right, maybe it's not Slade. Maybe I just want to know the face under the hood.” Dick admitted. “I'm just so sick of fighting nameless, faceless men and not knowing a thing about them or their weaknesses.”

“The frustration is mutually shared.” Bruce agreed. “So lets get a profile together so that this man doesn't remain faceless.”

“The Hood is definitely dishing out revenge on behalf of the city which means the guy will be sentimental in ways. His signs indicate that there is more control and ritual, meaning he has the same tendencies a serial killer has.” Dick began. “Because he's killing bad guys he will see no reason to stop and so far he hasn't shown any signs of wanting to show himself. He's getting the credit he craves thanks to the news and growing social media support of his actions. He'll also have a bad past, possibly a criminal record, as well as a penchant for protecting others or picking fights with those who are attacking the defenseless.”

“A hero-complex.” Tim nodded and he couldn't help but smile when he realized that all three were finally on the same page. “We should also check out some of these private security companies.”

“Excellent idea,” Bruce nodded. “We don't have enough man power to stalk or watch all prisoners being released from New Arkham or Blackgate, but we do need to zero in on those who have committed crimes in the name of loved ones or the innocent. There won't be a lot, but I can think of at least two cases from the past five years.”

 


	16. Socializing With Superheroes Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I hope you guys like this chapter. I know it's been a while and I am working on the next chapter and I'd like it out before the end of the month. Thanks for reading and don't worry, The Red Hood will be back in action very soon!

Chapter 16

 

February 8th

14:30

 

JT Bennet sat in the double wide trailer that had been turned into his administrative office. Currently he was sitting in the largest room that they used as a conference or board room. Bruce Wayne and Lucious Fox were seated across from himself and an attorney named Lindsey Jameson. Alpha had hired her on because her membership with the League of Assassin's was unofficial, meaning Batman couldn't look her up. Sitting beside both groups were four men from the Mayor's office and two women from two different banks.

“If Mr. Wayne truly wants to invest in this project, I can assure you that Gotham Mutual-

“And Gotham National.”

“Will happily assist in any way that we can.” The two women from competing banks looked more than pleased to be in the same room together. Everyone knew that when Wayne Enterprises invested publicly in something, it was sure to make millions.

“Money isn't the point!” One of the two city attorney's rolled their eyes. JT had been wanting to punch him square in the nose since they'd all been seated. Frank Collins was the paranoid type because he wasn't that good at his job. He was probably a friend or family member of the Mayor. The only thing Poindexter was willing to look at were the liabilities and after all that had happened, he was convinced this was not something the city should be part of.

“It is the point.” Lindsey responded. “The permits have been filed and the mayor's office has not found a legal reason to rescind those permits. Money is all that matters gentlemen and with two banks and Mr. Wayne present, I see no reason for the mayor's office to be involved at all.”

JT knew he should be paying attention but it was pulled away by the buzzing in his pocket. He slipped his hand in his jacket and pulled out his cell phone while the lawyers argued with each other. Swiping left he read the message that Dick had sent him. Normally he didn't mind his inane texts full of well wishes and repeated pleas for him to work safely; it was somewhat endearing even when it was annoying as fuck, but this? This was different.

He felt blue eyes weighing on him and at once he knew what he should have read more closely. This was a group text and of course Bruce Wayne's number was listed along with Wally West's, Tim Drake's, Barbara Gordon's, Kon El's, Alfred Pennyworth's and Roy Harper's. The only number he technically could know was Bruce's since the card he'd given him in the hospital had his cell number listed. He'd have to feign ignorance with the rest of the numbers. Reading the text he found it was an invite to Dick's place for a game night and dinner. Yeah right, no one was going to Dick's apartment for that...

Another buzzing confirmed what JT felt was sure to happen next. Alfred insisted the location be changed from Dick's apartment to Wayne Manor. Dick quickly agreed with another vibration of his phone.

He glanced up to see Bruce was still looking at him, waiting to see if he was going to answer. Even if it wasn't Bruce's family, JT would never have agreed to this, but yes it being his family made it even more impossible. He still wasn't worried about being outright recognized. He'd done a lot of growing and changing over the years, but his personality might just strike someone as a little too similar and all it would take was an active imagination and unrestrained curiosity to put two and two together.

“So if I say no to this dinner invitation are you going to deny my company the funding?” JT asked interrupting...Well he didn't know which suit was which and honestly he didn't care who it was that was speaking.

“Of course not, JT.” Bruce smirked. “Business is business.”

“Ok, good, then.” JT started to type in “not a chance in hell” when he noticed a new message come in from Bruce's number.

Bruce Wayne: JT has informed me that he will be happy to attend dinner.

Alfred Pennyworth: It is about time we met the young man, what should I prepare?

Wally West : Wait, is this THE young man?

Barbara Gordon: This ought to be good! Poor guy.

Roy Harper: Who the Hell is JT?

Tim Drake: Dick's new boyfriend.

Bruce Wayne: Dick's new friend.

Kon-El: I'm not gonna be able to make it. Have plans with the Big Guy.

Dick: There's only one Big Guy, and it's not Clark. Alfred, he likes junk food.

Tim Drake: Maybe next time.

“Are we interrupting something?” One of the city attorneys snapped impatiently at both Bruce and JT. The latter sneered at his phone while the former grinned happily at his.

“As a matter of fact you are.” JT growled. “I think Mr. Wayne and I could use the room.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Bennet, but this is the only time I have availa-”

“Get out of the damned room!” JT shouted.

“It's fine Mr. Collins, we're finished here anyhow.” Lindsey smiled politely as she stood and gathered her paperwork.

“Yes, I believe we are.” Lucious Fox added with a smirk. “Unless you can come up with a legal reason to stop the project, we've nothing more to discuss.”

JT Bennet : Fucking Hell, Dick, really? Who the fuck are all these people?

Everyone quickly identified themselves and just in case Bruce stole his phone for any reason he was careful to list them exactly as they stated in their responses. So Kon-El, ended up Connor. Alfred said he was the butler so he was named “The Butler”. The others mostly gave their first names, but only Tim added his last.

Barbara: I'll go if Roy goes.

Roy: Then I guess you'll be going, sexy.

Dick: Gross.

Wally: Second that! Oh and I'll be there so long as Alfred doesn't mind.

The Butler: I will not be making 'junk' food, I suggest someone offer something reasonable or I'll pick myself. Mr. West, I would be delighted to serve you along with the rest of the family and friends.

Bruce: Could go for some some Shepard's Pie if it's not too much trouble, Alfred.

Tim Drake: :)

Dick: Yummy!

Roy: Always down for a home-cooked meal if Alfred's doing the cooking.

Wally: Great! I'll pick up Roy and Barbara, what time should we come by?

Dick: Well now that Alfred is hosting it's up to him.

Alfred: As if you ever planned it any other way, Master Richard.

Bruce: My schedule will be open no earlier than six-thirty.

Alfred: Very well, Master Bruce. At seven o' clock dinner will be ready. Please be on time.

Dick: You will be there, right, JT?

JT glared at his phone and then at Bruce. “You said I didn't have to go to get your money.” He waved his phone a bit before crossing his arms. “I don't do game nights.”

“You don't have to go to get my money.” Bruce assured him with a smirk. “But you do have to attend if you wish to make a good impression on his friends and family.”

“You're making some bold assumptions about mine and Dick's relationship.”

“Perhaps, but unless you are the playboy that his family is worried you are, you won't want to hurt Dick by letting your social inadequacies get to you.”

“You think I'm the playboy? I've heard plenty of your reputation to know that you've zero room to talk and after being in Gotham only a month, I knew your 'son' had earned that same reputation. Dick goes through lovers like he goes through laundry.”

To his surprise, Bruce chuckled softly. “Dick can be a bit of a slob, can't he?” He shook his head and stood from the table and walked toward the door. “You and I are a lot alike, Bennet, so I am aware of how hard this event will be for you.”

“Ah, so this is one of those misery loves company kind of things,” JT rolled his eyes but offered a small smile. “I should have seen this coming from you, but honestly, I expected you'd want to keep business separated from your personal life.”

The older man was thoughtful for a few brief seconds. “Let's consider this evening revenge for forcing business into my private life by dating my son in the first place.”

JT wanted to scowl and snap off some smart ass comment, but instead he found himself grinning like the canary that ate the cat. He accepted his perspective and felt that it was only fair. He was after all dating the superhero with the hottest ass. Hell, if there were such a poll for police officers, he had no doubt Dick would have won that title as well. He couldn't begrudge Bruce an irritation.

“Fair is fair I suppose.” He finally spoke aloud. “I guess I'll be seeing you at seven.”

JT Bennet: You'll have to come by my place to talk me into it. ;)

Bruce frowned as he looked at his phone, JT smiling even wider as he stood up. They both headed for the doors. “I believe our lawyers have everything taken care of. I look forward to working on the Burrows Reformation Project with you.”

“Yeah that and watching me squirm while your family and Dick's friends surround me.” JT rolled his eyes as he let Bruce leave the conference room first. The older man didn't bother to respond, only smile, before he and Lucious Fox left the trailer.

* * *

 

Dick walked into the lavish penthouse and frowned when he didn't see JT in the living area. He walked toward the kitchen and checked his watch. It was only 4:45 pm and technically that should mean he had plenty of time to drag his lover/boyfriend thingy to the house; or at least it would have been with a normal boyfriend/lover thingy.

JT wasn't normal.

JT was stubborn.

He should have come over the moment Bruce told him they were out of their meeting. Now he had to face the possibility that he was hiding from him and pretending to be caught up in some other business. If he didn't show up to his own penthouse then how was Dick to expect him to show up to Wayne Manor?

“Bout time you showed up, Officer.” He nearly jumped out of his own skin as he felt the press of JT's body against his back and his arms wrapping around his waist.

“As if I'd let you find an excuse not to come meet my family tonight.” Dick chuckled, but inside he couldn't help but dwell on how easily JT often managed to sneak up on him. With his training from both Batman and the police he should never have been able to get this close to him unnoticed.

He moaned as he felt those strong hands running down his chest to the front of his hips. He felt JT rut up against his buttocks and he felt his entire body flush. “You smell good.” The young growled in his ear.

“Mmm, don't tease, JT, it's cruel.” Dick breathed out with a shiver.

“Beg me to fuck you.”

“JT, you haven't been cleared by the doctors yet.” He answered in what he hoped sounded like a firm tone, but even to his ears he sounded aroused and on the verge of complying with JT's demand.

“Don't be such a bitch, Grayson.” His lover growled but he removed his hands and stepped back from him. JT walked over to his couch and flopped down petulantly. “If I get a doctor's note can we resume our fucking?”

“You don't have to get an attitude.” Dick rolled his eyes as he watched his boyfriend pout. “I just don't want to hurt you. The kind of sex you like...You've still got a lot of injuries to be getting that rough.”

“Pfft.” JT scoffed bitterly. “We haven't even gotten as rough as I like. Come on Dick, you sucked me off at the hospital plenty of times.”

“Whining is so not a turn on, Bennet.” He couldn't help but a make sour face. “Besides, I'm not here to have sex with you, I'm here to kidnap you.”

“Emphasis on kidnap, and not in the fun kinky way.” JT snickered. “I really hate doing the socializing stuff. Can't we just stay here, drink and fool around all night?”

“Nope, you already agreed and before you complain that you were coerced by Bruce, I'm going to tell you now that it doesn't matter.”

The handsome young man grumbled under his breath as he pulled his jacket

off the back of the couch and fished out a pack of cigarettes. Dick loved looking at him most of the time, but he absolutely hated that he was dating a smoker. It was so unhealthy and really it was a disgusting habit that he'd never understood.

JT clearly noticed his disgust and to his annoyance ignored him as he pulled one out and lit it. He wanted to say that the smoke detracted from his looks, but it didn't. At least not yet. He still had smooth skin, even if it was still discolored from fading bruises. His smile was a pristine white and his breath always tasted like cinnamon or mint, so clearly he did all he could to keep his habit from being overly offensive.

“So are you going to change or are you staying in your sports blazer and button-up?”

“Hey, whoa, whoa. Your little shindig isn't until seven o' clock! It's fucking five, Dick. I'm not showing up early. You're lucky I'm going at all.” He griped. “Especially since you haven't done anything to talk me into it like we discussed earlier.”

“It's too dangerous.” Dick rolled his eyes, getting a little irritated with trying to explain this to him.

“Bull shit,” JT growled before taking a deep drag of the toxic stick. “it's bruises, Dick. They kept me in the hospital for the dangerous crap. I don't have anymore swelling near my brain, my spleen didn't rupture-

“JT, enough!” He finally snapped. “Do you understand that your spleen is bruised? That makes it more likely to burst. They keep you in case it does but then you received doctors orders to refrain from any exertions for two weeks.”

To his surprise, instead of arguing further, JT became thoughtful as he took another drag off his cigarette, his eyes narrowed but not in anger. He pulled out his cell phone and tapped it few times before he took the cigarette from between his lips and smiled brightly at his lover.

“What?” Dick tilted his head.

“February 14th, you want me, you want to take this to the next level, well so do I.” JT stood up from the couch and walked, no sauntered over to him, his hips moving in such a way that Dick's eyes were drawn to the movement. “I'll be your boyfriend, I'll meet the family and I'll even take you out on Valentine's Day, but when we are done with dinner you are mine.”

Dick tried to make his brain work, but all he could think about was sex. Dirty, rough sex. He forced himself to look into the teal blue eyes of JT and saw that his mind was similarly occupied. He could practically see what the crude man was thinking of and it made him shiver with anticipation.

“I'm going to drag you back here to my penthouse and I'm going to claim you in every way I can.” JT reached for the coffee table and put out his cigarette before he straightened so that he could stand face to face with his lover. “I'm going to throw you down on my bed and I'm going to tie you down,” He moved so that his lips were pressed softly against his ear. “you're going to writhe beneath me while I explore every inch of your body. I'll deprive you of your sight so that you can't prepare for what I'll do to you.

“You'll whimper and moan, your hips trying to rut up against me as my hands trail down your chest. Your teeth will clench and you'll hiss in pleasure when I finally touch your erect cock and just stroke you for several minutes. You'll bite that sexy bottom lip of yours as you try to move your body so that I'm able to work you faster, but I'll stop altogether.

“You'll panic when you feel my weight leave the bed, but then it will return and you'll wonder what I'm going to do next. When I drag my tongue down your torso and to the base of you're cock, you'll say my name and I will lick and nip you everywhere, but where you want me to most. You'll practically cry with need and then when you least expect it...

He gasped and shivered as he listened to JT's vulgar, in depth description of how he would spend Valentine's Day. There was no way either of them could pretend that his cock wasn't hard as rock and twitching beneath his jeans with need. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around JT as he spoke, his erection rubbing against the other man's thigh.

“Ah, ah, ah. I think you're getting a little carried away, Dick.” JT laughed cruelly and gently pushed him back. “I can't be doing anything exerting and I suppose I should go shower and change. You just wait in here. I'd hate to tempt you.”

“You cock sucking, mother-fucker.” Dick whispered in pain.

“Such language, Grayson!” The other feigned horror but then gave him a wicked grin. “You just keep thinking about that night and then you'll know what I've been going through and will continue to go through until I'm properly healed.”

* * *

 

JT followed Dick inside of the large house that they all affectionately referred to as Wayne Manor. They were twenty minutes late and he couldn't help but take a little perverse pleasure in the knowledge that he'd been the reason for their delay. Granted, they weren't delayed in fun sex games like he would have preferred, but the call from his attorney was an excellent excuse to stall his run in with several superheroes.

“Bout time you showed up.” Roy Harper smirked as he approached. He was a couple inches shorter than JT but about an inch taller than Dick. He had shaggy red hair and dark green eyes. He was dressed casually, light wash jeans and a red t-shirt. He greeted Dick with a friendly hug but avoided JT altogether. “Hope you're ok with me and Babs.”

“Haven't swung that way in quite a while, Harper, you know that.” Dick smirked. “Anyhow, Roy, this is my boyfriend JT Bennet. JT this is Roy Harper, one of my two best friends.”

“And I'm Wally, the other best friend.” Another red head with green eyes approached, though he was the same height as JT but much leaner. His hair was shorter, though spikier on top and he was dressed in a long sleeve yellow shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. He offered JT his hand.

After being elbowed in the side JT rolled his eyes and took the offered hand. “JT, nice to meet you.” He offered only half a smile and then looked passed all of them at the red-headed woman in a wheelchair. “Who's the chick?” He was going to say cripple, but if he remembered correctly, Roy Harper had one of the shortest fuses of the side-kicks. It wouldn't do to get into a slugging match with his boyfriend's bestie.

She wheeled herself over and offered him a gloved hand. “I'm Barbara Gordon, it's a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled brightly.

JT shook hands but couldn't say anything more. The cripple had been the one to convince Bruce that he was “dark” and a monster. It was going to take a bit of getting used to before he could look her in the eye and not feel anything other than hatred and resentment. He knew it was petty, considering that Dick had also warned Bruce about him, but he knew that had come from sibling rivalry. Barbara truly believed he was nothing more than a criminal.

Barbara looked a little insulted when he refused to say anything, but she didn't have a chance to ask him what his problem was. Bruce approached next and shook his hand, welcoming him to his home and offering a very forced smile. JT reveled in the knowledge that Bruce did not like his 'business' partner banging one of his wards. Oh if only he knew that he was so much more than JT Bennet.

“Hello, JT, I'm Dick's brother, Timothy Drake.” His eyes moved to the shortest of the group, a black haired boy with blue eyes. He was lean and short and looked pretty healthy minus the arm in a cast. This was Robin or Red Robin, or whatever the fuck he went by. Either way, this was his replacement. The boy who had filled his shoes after he bit the dust.

“Timmy, nice to meet you.” JT greeted, knowing he had no choice but to say something. He couldn't snub both Tim and Barbara or it would look bad. At least this way, one could assume he simply didn't like Barbara because of the implied relationship she'd had with Dick. “You're brother talks about you a lot.”

Roy didn't seem fond of him as he continued to glare, but JT knew better than to antagonize him so early in the game. He'd definitely need to put the junkie in his place. Roy Harper was no better than him and yet here he was; accepted, loved and even dating the bitch who'd turned on Jason for being 'too dark'. He wondered if her keen observations skills had allowed her to see Roy for who he was. It wouldn't surprise him at all if her biased nature had chosen to over look Harper's 'issues'.  
“Dinner is served, if you would all head to the dining room.” JT looked up to see the old butler and offered him a polite smile. It was good to see that nothing had changed in the old man. He still had impeccable posture and wore a black suit. His hair was becoming more salt than pepper and he had shaved but otherwise he looked just the same. Kind blue eyes with a no non-sense attitude.

“Hey, Alfred, this is my boyfriend, JT. JT this is Alfred Pennyworth, but we call him Alfred.” Dick introduced with a smile.

“It's a pleasure to meet you sir. Now, please be seated.” Alfred insisted before disappearing down the hall and into a room, JT knew was the kitchen.

“Never get in the way of Alfred and his duties.” Tim smirked.

As everyone settled into their seats and began to eat, JT did his best to avoid eye contact with any of them. Again he knew they didn't recognize him, nor did they see any flash of a young man who'd been dead for years. It was no longer about avoiding recognition, but social interaction in general. He didn't want Roy and Wally to tell Dick to bring him along to their next bar night. He didn't have enough time in his schedule to be dragged along on some family outing with Tim and Bruce.

Eventually, The Red Hood would return to Gotham and he couldn't juggle a real job running a real company, a personal life with Dick Grayson, and a social life with friends and family all while still being a costumed vigilante. It was bad enough that he had the bat family watching him, he couldn't afford to add Alfred, Roy and Wally's extra pairs of eyes. Slipping injuries past them would be hard enough without them around.

“Not much of a talker, JT?” Roy glowered from across the table.

“Actually, he is. Must be shy.” Dick placed his hand on his thigh beneath the table. “They don't bite.”

“I do.” JT responded flatly and couldn't help but snicker when he saw everyone stare at him. “No really, I do. Ask Dick. Left him with quite a mark a few weeks back.”

“JT,” Dick's blue eyes narrowed angrily as he pinched him where his had been resting.

“So what is it that you do for a living?” Wally asked with a smile.

“I own Bennet Construction.”

“Wait, how old are you?” Roy demanded.

“Roy.” Barbara hissed. “That's none of your business.”

“Come on, he looks like he isn't even old enough to buy a beer.”

“I do more than buy beer, Roy, I drink it, too.” JT rolled his eyes.

“Legally?”

“Really, Roy? Is the disowned junkie from Star City really going to make comments about underage drinking?” JT questioned.

“Hey!” Dick frowned. “What is wrong with you?”

“How would you even know that?” Roy demanded.

“Because I watch the news. You're face was plastered on the nightly news for weeks, not to mention all the tabloids talking about your addictions and inappropriate behavior with women of the night.” JT responded proudly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“This conversation is over.” Bruce growled as he stood, ending any attempt by anyone in the dinner party to retort. “Roy, when you are in my home you will not antagonize my guests. JT, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't rise to the occasion.”

With that, JT was grateful for the silence that followed. Bruce returned to his seated position and no one was brave enough to say anything for several minutes. Roy in particular looked like he was ready to toss the table over, but JT didn't mind. He wasn't about to take a verbal attack without returning it in kind.

Wally glanced at Dick sympathetically before looking back to JT. “So you're the head of a construction company, that's pretty cool. What brought you guys to Gotham?”

“The Burrows Reformation Project.” JT answered. “If we can pull it off, we're hoping to build our new headquarters here.”

“So you're looking to make the move permanent?” Tim asked for clarification, noting the way Dick seemed to perk up that announcement.

“Yeah, most likely. I think my company would be able to do a lot of good here. The money is here, the draw is here, we just have to get rid of the fear.” JT shrugged. He'd played CEO JT Bennet longer than he had any other persona and it wasn't hard at all to keep the image in place or the information straight.

“Get rid of the fear?” Barbara asked. “That's quite a feat, especially for an outsider.”

“Maybe that's what this place needs.” He responded. “People who aren't already beaten down and defeated to come in and help pick up the pieces. Besides, Wayne Enterprises can't do it all on their own.”

“Here, here.” Tim smiled. “I think that's the exact kind of thinking we need around here.”

“Yeah, but those are just pretty words.” Barbara debated with a frown. “What are you going to do as an outsider when men like Two-Face or Penguin come to demand you stop your work?”

“Didn't some nut job kill Two-Face?” Wally whispered to Dick who nodded.

“The real question you should ask is what have I done?” He replied.

“Ok. What have you done?” She asked immediately.

Taking a breath JT looked to Dick and then back to Barbara and smiled. “I got my ass handed to me by a freak in a mask. I was beaten black and blue and sent to the hospital. I lived, Barbie, that's what I did. I lived and then I got back to work.”

“Really? What happened?” Wally asked curiously.

“Some ass-hat that the police call Black Mask had me kidnapped and beaten up. Then,” JT said after he swallowed down some of the shepherds pie. “I was rescued by two other masked men.”

“Couldn't protect yourself?” Roy grumbled under his breath, but JT heard it all the same.

“Look at me, Roy, I'm a big guy, but I'm one man.” JT shrugged seemingly unperturbed by the comment. “Could you have protected yourself against several armed men? I mean, seriously, are you one of the masked men who saved my life? Cause I'd love to thank you if you are, but if you're not then you can fu-”

“Well I think, JT's made a very good point, Roy.” Tim interrupted quickly to prevent Bruce from mandating silence for the rest of the meal. “I mean, you have to admit Barbara, that it sends quite a powerful message to the regular every day citizens of Gotham to keep pushing on and to keep living no matter what the criminals of this city do to them.”

“I have to say, it's those like myself and JT here who encourage people to live their daily lives fighting to be brave, instead of afraid. Those who wear masks don't always encourage the people properly, even if they are the ones saving lives.” Bruce added in agreement.

“Aren't you afraid that Black Mask and his men will come after you again when he finds out that you're continuing with the project?” Wally asked.

Everyone paused to look at JT who stared down at his food and frowned. “Honestly, I've been avoiding that thought.” He sighed and set down his fork. “I suppose I can admit that I'm scared shitless that it'll happen again.”

“So why not leave? It's not like you have to be in Gotham to make sure the work gets done.” Bruce shrugged.

Shaking his head, JT looked Bruce in the eyes. “I disagree. It's my name, it's my men out there. I should be here. If they're busy attacking me, it means they aren't attacking my guys. If I skip town while they work, nothing will get done.

“Black Mask's freaks will be right back at the site threatening them or sabotaging their work. A quarter of the police are corrupt, so I can't trust them to guard the job sites if I leave. No, I have to stay here, because if they can risk their lives for this work, than I better be risking mine right along with theirs.

“They need to see that even if we are afraid, we'll do what's right anyhow.” JT looked to Wally next and then settled his eyes on Barbara. “That's the mentality that it takes to help rebuild a city like Gotham.”

“Black Mask is a nasty character.” Roy smirked. “But he's nothing compared to a few of the others in this city. I'd think seriously about getting some armed protection, because I doubt you'd wind up lucky enough to get rescued a second time.”

“I don't know about that.” JT grinned. “The masked man with the blue bird on his chest seemed like he was pretty into me. I'd be willing to bet he would come to my rescue again.”

Dick coughed and had to spit his food into his napkin to keep from choking. Tim looked down at his food while Wally only blinked rapidly at him. Bruce's eyes were darkened and staring intensely at Roy who was glaring hatefully at JT. Barbara simply took a bite of her food and pretended that the conversation hadn't just turned down the avenue that it had.

“Oh come on, guys.” JT laughed softly. “Dick knows I'm just teasing. I'm perfectly happy with him.”

“You are?” Dick asked as he finished drinking some water to help clear up his coughing fit.

“Yeah, I am.” JT said sincerely as he brushed his knuckles softly over his lover's cheek. “I'm happier than I have been in a really long time.”

Realizing that everyone was staring, JT felt his cheeks blush and he dropped his hand and immediately shoved food in his mouth. He couldn't believe had just said something so sappy, but he couldn't have Dick falling into some stupid depression over which version of himself his boyfriend liked better. He knew a few vigilantes who'd fallen into that trap; unfortunately Dick was one of them.

Before he could spend much more time analyzing the conversation or being embarrassed about it, Dick grabbed his chin and kissed him in front of the entire dinner party. His eyes widened at first, but one thing he couldn't resist was one of Dick Grayson's kisses. His lips were soft and his tongue was as dextrous as the rest of his body. It was as if no one existed but the two of them when he was being kissed by Dick.

Bruce clearing his throat quickly reminded both young men that others did indeed exist and they parted hesitantly. “Excuse me.” JT blushed again. “Umm, where is the bathroom?”

He forced himself to wait patiently for the directions from Tim before he left the table and walked out of the room. He also had to make sure he followed Tim's directions exactly because he didn't want to wind up in a bathroom that he shouldn't have known how to get to. He couldn't help but wonder how much of himself he'd given away during that conversation.

There was no doubt in his mind that JT Bennet was going to be under a little more scrutiny now. He'd said just enough to make everyone curious about him and all because he couldn't control his need to one up Roy fucking Harper. Sure they didn't suspect he was himself, but he was just to different to be ignored. He hadn't said anything that could link him to The Red Hood either, but he knew that he'd given off enough of a vibe to trigger their 'instincts'. Everyone of them were going to start watching him.

He splashed his face with water after he finished washing his hands. He need to breath and get through the rest of the night. He needed to stop arguing with Roy and he needed to quit letting Barbara get under his skin. So what if this was once his home? Who cared if Bruce had once been the closest thing to family he'd known? Did it matter that he missed Alfred so badly he wanted to cry? He wasn't Jason Todd at the moment; he was JT Bennet and JT Bennet didn't give a shit about anyone but Dick.

 


	17. Socializing With Superheroes Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets pretty violent and bloody near the end so be aware of triggers. I hope you all enjoy the glorious albeit, bloody, return of The Red Hood.

Chapter 17

 

February 8th

20:27

 

They were all settled in the parlor where Dick was insisting on playing board games. Tim and Barbara had pointed out that there weren't any board games that permitted eight people. Of course Dick and Wally argued that fact and pointed out that many games could be played in teams. Bruce and Alfred mostly stayed out of the conversation until Wally and Roy started arguing about games being too childish or 'stupid'.

“How about poker.” JT suggested.

“That actually doesn't sound bad.” Roy agreed.

Wally and Dick both looked like they were going to pout. “That's not what I had in mind at all. Board games are fun, poker is serious.” The latter frowned.

“Poker doesn't have to be serious.” Tim rolled his eyes. “You just want to play Clue, but there's too many people, Dick.”

“I think poker is a good idea.” Bruce added. “Though you will all want to be careful when coming up against Alfred. No one has a better poker face.”

“Perhaps I shouldn't play, Master Bruce. The last time you and I played, I nearly ended up the Master and you the butler.” Alfred warned in a serious tone, though the mirth in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I don't mind playing poker so long as Dick promises not to play Lady Gaga's Poker Face on repeat the entire time.” Tim grimaced.

“But it's so perfect!” His older brother whined.

“Same with that stupid Kenny Rogers one!” Roy added quickly.

“It's called the Gambler and it's an equally perfect song.” Dick tried to point out.

“Don't forget Ace of Spades.” Wally smirked.

“Or the Lonesome Loser.” Barbara sighed.

“Well there has to be some music!” Dick crossed his arms. “We can't just sit in silence staring at each other.”

“Heaven forbid.” Bruce chuckled.

“Oh there can be music, I just think someone else needs to pick.” Barbara inserted.

“I highly doubt any of you people listen to the same shit. Trying to pick music we can all agree on is going to be a nightmare.” JT frowned as leaned back against the love seat he and Dick were on.

“I suppose we could try for ambient sounds?” Tim shrugged.

“No way!” Wally shook his head. “That's as irritating as Dick's poker tracks!”

As the group continued to argue over music, Alfred had already gone off to the game room to set up the large poker table. It was capable of seating ten, including a dealer. The green velvet topped table had been purchased decades ago by Thomas Wayne for charity events that he held at the manor. It had come with a large set of gaming tables which included a craps table, a roulette wheel and table and even a few slot machines.

Twenty minutes later everyone left the parlor and entered the room, still arguing about music. Alfred had already solved that problem, though. He'd turned on the sound system and set it on a channel that played instrumental versions of the songs only. It seemed like a fair compromise as everyone took their seats with Alfred assuming the role of dealer.

“We aren't playing with real money, are we guys?” Wally asked as he looked at his cards and the pile of chips that Alfred had already provided.

“Yeah, not all of us a millionaires or children of millionaires.” Barbara nodded in agreement.

“Guess we know who'll be folding first.” Roy wagged his eyebrows at his girlfriend.

The first round went to Bruce, the second to Alfred and the third to Roy. During the fifth round, Barbara ran out of chips with Dick winning the hand. The sixth round saw Roy winner once again with Tim and Wally both running out of chips. Alfred quickly dealt the seventh hand.

“You going to fold again, JT?” Roy smirked, seeing as the CEO had folded immediately during the past six hands.

“Nope.” JT shook his head and threw in three chips to raise.

“I fold.” Bruce announced.

“Same.” Dick frowned.

Alfred looked over his cards and sighed before folding. Roy grinned and tossed in four chips, his eyes focusing on JT in a challenging way. Without hesitating, JT tilted his head and then threw five into the center. Roy refused to call and added six. Back and forth it went between the two as their was clearly a different kind of fight taking place between the two young men.

Pushing his final fifteen chips into the center, JT looked to Roy with a wicked grin. The red head glared down at his cards and his own stash. He could call or he could raise, but it was evident he was no longer so sure of himself. If anything, he appeared to be regretting the childish one-upping he'd done for this hand.

“Raise, call, or fold, Harper.” JT smirked. “I'm all in. Are you?”

Clenching his jaw and tightening his fists, Roy sneered as he looked at his cards. Two pairs. It wasn't a lot, but at first he'd assumed that JT was bluffing. Now he felt sure that the man had something. Who would bet it all on a bluff? He looked first to Bruce and then to Dick before he sighed and tossed his cards to the center, signaling that he folded.

“Nice, what cards did you have?” Dick asked JT as he quickly pulled the chips into his pile.

“Nope. I am not required to show my hand if everyone folded.” JT shook his head.

Bruce moved fast, grabbing the five cards from across the table and taking a peak. His light blue eyes widened in shock as he laid them face down on the table. JT glared angrily while everyone else immediately demanded to know if it had been a bluff or a lucky hand.

“Incredible instincts.” Was all Bruce said.

“No!” Roy frowned. “You didn't have a fucking thing, did you?”

While he wanted to be mad, JT opted to smile instead. “You gotta commit, Harper. Make a choice and see it through.” He grabbed the cards and showed the hand. He didn't even have a pair.

Once more Alfred dealt out the cards to remaining the players. After the initial bets were placed and everyone pulled their new cards, the participants grew tense. Everyone began to raise, including JT. After only a couple of rounds back and forth, Dick folded. Bruce and Roy kept raising until Alfred also folded, leaving only themselves and JT.

“I'm all in.” JT announced.

Bruce focused on his cards and then looked to both young men before he, too threw in his whole pile of chips. “I've got this.”

“Sure you do.” Roy grinned as he pushed his pile into the center as well.

“You've been called gentlemen, lay down your cards.” Alfred announced.

“Flush!” Roy proclaimed happily.

“Too bad that doesn't beat a full house.” Bruce chuckled, proudly showing off his cards.

“NO!” Roy shouted and then buried his face in his hands.

“Don't pout Roy, Bruce is joining you and the rest of the girls at the loser's table.” JT beamed as he one by one he laid down his cards for all to see. Straight flush.

Wally and Dick howled in surprise as Tim rolled his eyes, seeming to have guessed the outcome. Bruce didn't really look to surprised that JT had a good hand, more that he had a better hand. He figured he wouldn't try to bluff everyone again, but he hadn't expected his cards to be that much better, either.

The game was now between Dick, Alfred and JT. The cards were dealt and once more, JT began folding immediately as Dick and Alfred were left to battle one another. It was pretty obvious to everyone that JT was purposely throwing his hands no matter what they were to let the other two players knock each other our of the running. Soon, it was Dick that fell to the wayside after miscalculating a cunning bluff on Alfred's part.

“The age old battle begins.” JT smirked. “Young vs. Old.”

Alfred cracked a small smile and dealt the cards. He looked at his own hand and knew he'd be getting rid of three of his cards. “How many cards, Master Bennet?”

“None.” JT answered.

“Are you sure?” Alfred asked in a bored tone.

“Positive.”

“Very well. The dealer takes three.” He stated.

“Raise.” JT declared as he tossed five chips into the center.

Alfred's eyes narrowed as he looked his hand over carefully. He had three of a kind. He placed five chips into the center. “Call.”

JT smiled and showed off his two pairs.

“I win this round, Master Bennet.” He announced while showing his three of a kind.

Twice more the outcome went almost exactly the same. JT would raise and Alfred would call to prevent JT from getting too high. JT seemed to take it in stride but he kept looking over at Dick and grinning or winking at him. Both knew that the next hand would be the last. It was an instinct that Alfred had and a strategy that JT planned on.

JT stared down at his cards and requested only one card. Alfred announced the same for himself. One card. Everyone watched from their original seats, waiting to see how much the younger would bet. Just as Alfred suspected and JT had planned, he pushed everything he had into the middle. This meant that Alfred could fold and they'd continue to play, or he could match the bet and call it.

With a raised brow, Alfred pushed all of his chips into the center of the table. Dick and Wally 'oohed' as Alfred showed his cards. Queen high. He had nothing. They all looked to JT expectantly. The younger grinned and threw down an eight of clubs, a ten of hearts, a three of spades and a seven of spades.

Everyone held their breath as he looked at his final card and then shrugged as he tossed his down. Ace of Diamonds. “No way!” Wally exclaimed.

“Hell of a game, Alfred. I'll have to remember to invite you the next time me and the guys get together.” JT smiled.

“I can't believe you did that!” Dick laughed.

As everyone made various comments on the game, only Bruce seemed to notice Alfred's demeanor. He looked different. Still quiet and stoic, but there was something in his eyes. A wide eyed fear or maybe sadness. He started to talk to him but Alfred blinked and any sign of trouble had completely disappeared.

“Congratulations, Master Bennet. Few have been able to beat me at my own game.” He said cordially.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, JT shrugged. “Yeah well, I learned it from my grandfather.” Bruce was so busy paying attention to his butler that he missed the tell-tale sign that something was amiss with JT Bennet as well. The boy blushed ever so slightly when he'd said the word grandfather.

“Well I have work in the morning, I'd better get going.” Barbara said pointedly to Wally.

“Ah man, I should have thought of that. Next time Roy can pick you up and I'll drive separate.” The taller red head sighed. “I guess that means we're out, Dick. Thanks for the dinner Alfred and thanks for letting us come to your place, Bruce.”

“Of course, Master West.”

“Anytime, Wally.”

* * *

 

It wasn't long after Barbara Gordon, Roy Harper and Wally West left that JT Bennet took off. He had to admit he was a bit relieved. The boy had seemed a great fit for Richard; after all he did compliment him in a way that only opposites can achieve. He could tell that they cared about one another and that was equally important. He feared that thanks to Bruce's lack of a love life, that the boys would follow suit and spend their lives miserable and alone.

He had walked to his room, needing a moment of peace to push back the heartache that coursed through him. JT Bennet had hurt him in a way no other could have. It of course hadn't been on purpose and it was in no way the boy's fault. He couldn't have known, he had no possible way of knowing. Dick was more to blame for the heartache than JT. After all, it was Dick who was sub-consciously picking partners who were so similar to _him._

It had been years since Jason's death and it had been several more since the boy had played cards against him. Alfred had never admitted it to Bruce, but Jason was the young man who had helped him improve his poker skills. They had spent hours during healing, recovery, or even sick time playing the game against one another. The boy held a very special place in his heart.

That hadn't always been the case. When the boy was first taken in by Bruce, Alfred had detested him. He was violent, vulgar, disrespectful and cruel to anyone who tried to help him. Still, he'd kept his mouth shut and simply did his best to look after and care for the boy the way he had Dick. Trying to treat Jason as he had Dick had proven just as disastrous as ignoring him.

The two were nothing alike and they couldn't be treated as if they were. Instead of giving the boy space and allowing him time, Alfred switched tactics and stayed on top of him when he was home. He insisted on the boy doing homework with him or at least in the same room he was currently in. He spoke to him constantly, even when he knew the boy just wanted to be left alone. He offered him help regularly and he insisted on making him socialize.

When Jason was capable of seeing that Alfred wasn't going anywhere, that he was going to be a constant in his life, the walls slowly fell. They discussed all kinds of things and very quickly, Jason Todd became as much his friend and surrogate grandson as Dick had. The young teen needed attention. He needed presence. Dick needed those things too, but not near as often or in the same way that Jason did.

He looked down at the picture of the scrawny teenager that he kept on his dresser. His eyes filled with tears and he forced himself to look away. If Jason had lived, if he'd had a chance to grow up, how tall would he have been? What would he be like? He hoped, truly hoped, that he would have turned out much like JT Bennet.

It was easy to picture, after all, the young man looked similar. Black hair and blue eyes. He looked at the portrait once more and tilted his head. There had been something bothering him, something he had found irritating and that was the familiarity of the name Bennet. It was such a simple, common name, but there was something else to it. Something else scratching at the back of his mind.

“Bennet, Bennet.” He pulled out his cell phone and looked over his conversations with Bruce. He'd told him a little about JT so that he could be prepared for his behavior. “It's only spelled with one 'T'. Usually it's spelled with two.” He stood still as a statue as he stared into the face of the teenager on his dresser. “Bennet, Bennet with one 'T'.”

And then it hit him. Jason Todd's favorite book had been Pride and Prejudice. He'd never understood it. It didn't hint at much that should have interested a young teenage boy and yet after Alfred had insisted on him reading it during his schooling, the boy had read it back to back twice! Was this a coincidence? JT Bennet. Jason Todd Bennet?

No.

It couldn't be.

It was impossible.

“He's dead,” He told himself aloud. “You simply wish to see similarities.” And yet, when he looked at the eyes in the photograph he couldn't help but recall how similar a shade of teal they both possessed.

He felt his heart race with the idea of what his suspicions could mean. Was this a con man who was purposely attacking Dick? Was he trying to swindle them out of money? He narrowed his eyes as anger grew in his chest. Was he the only one who had noticed? Of course he was. If Bruce suspected that this young man was intentionally manipulating them through the looks and behaviors of their deceased loved one, the boy would have been tossed out on his ass at the beginning.

Then again, Bruce had a tendency to avoid things he didn't want to face. He still hadn't told his boys what was wrong with him. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself as he realized that he would have to investigate this further on his own. There was no reason to rile up the family until he knew for certain.

If this young man was a pretender, then Alfred absolutely refused to let him hurt anyone in his family. His boys thought they were the scariest things in the night, but really, they had nothing on the butler when it came to the safety and protection of those very same boys.

* * *

 

February 9th

00:38 hrs

 

Joker was currently in New Arkham Asylum. Batman was chasing down Black Mask and his men; Nightwing was too busy being Officer Grayson to notice him and the Robin was at home nursing a broken wing. The city was his tonight. Sure he couldn't exact his revenge on Black Mask, but at least he could take out a few well deserving shit heads on his list.

Should he be out here? Probably not. Was it against doctor's orders? Not really. It wasn't like he'd asked when it was OK for him to go out and kill criminals that the city was never going to catch. Technically, he hadn't been told not to, so he wasn't breaking any rules. Besides, family issues aside, he was a Robin, a _real_ Robin, and real Robins never stayed in.

They fucking soared!

He took a running jump off the building he was on and used his grappling gun to swing on to the next roof top. He landed roughly, but nothing to jarring. The old him, the teenage version of himself, would have hooped and hollered while flying through the air, but he'd gotten to big for that. Instead he simply walked with pride to the edge.

As he looked over he smiled under his red mask, the car he'd been tailing pulled up to the curb and stopped. The guy wasn't as big time as the likes of the Joker, but he certainly had earned his way to the fourth spot on Jason Todd's list. An up and coming big shot in one of the local mafia families, Ryan Murphy was guilty of all sorts of crimes that the city couldn't make stick. Murder, extortion, blackmail, grand larceny, and tons of little crimes that all added up to making him one of the most dangerous men in Gotham.

He was going to dismantle the prick piece by piece, just as Ryan had done to the D.A.'s wife three years ago. After that stunt, even the police refused to acknowledge his crimes. Batman himself had tried to help give them irrefutable evidence that could put him away for life, but no one dared cross the man they labeled “The Butcher”.

Ryan and two men got out of the car and walked into what Jason knew to be an old slaughter house. After a minute, the two thugs came back out and popped the trunk. He wanted so badly to laugh at the cliche but honestly, a man's life was on the line tonight and only the Joker laughed during moments like this.

He walked back toward the roof access of the building, picked the lock and slipped in quietly. He was on a rusty old cat walk which gave him an uninterrupted view of the The Butcher's work area below. There was a wooden table stained with blood. It had several knives stuck into the edge of the table and Lord knew they weren't the least bit sanitary. Flies were buzzing all around the dirty equipment and Jason couldn't help but find it pathetic that the slaughtering of an animal was cleaner than this man's work.

By the time the two men came in with their bosses next victim, Jason had quietly moved across the cat walk and down two flights of stairs that were pressed against the west wall. He wasn't worried about them killing the guy that they had just secured to the Butcher's block because realistically he had been number fourteen on his list. It was a hit-man for a rival family and really, Jason didn't give a damn what the mafioso’s did to each other.

The man grunted and squealed like a pig as Murphy got to work and Jason couldn't help but take a closer look at the guy's mouth. To his surprise there was a red apple forced in it. He shuddered as the man continued to struggle against the restraints that kept him in place while Murphy chopped him up like an actual pig.

“Jesus, you don't fucking eat that shit do you?” He demanded from his watch point, his mechanized voice spooking all three men.

Murphy was the first to start looking up, but Jason knew he was adequately hidden in the shadows as he quietly climbed down a pipe. “I don't, but there've been a few shops who bought the meat. I didn't bother to correct their assumptions as to which animal it belonged to.”

“I bet a lot of people fear you when they hear you butcher men and women alive.”

“It takes a sick mind.” Ryan shrugged, but his eyes shined with pride as he slammed his knife down and took out a gun, completely unaware that The Red Hood had already made it to floor and was closing in on him and his men.

“Not really.” He stepped out of the shadows and pressed his gun between lackey's number one's eyes and fired.

Murphy and Number Two started shooting at him, but he was already rolling out of their line of sight. He used the shadows of the dimly lit building to get around behind them. They moved so that they were back to back, both men's eyes large and fearful. It wasn't often that these kinds of killers ended up on the other side of the table.

“Cannibalism's been around for ages, it's not that horrifying.” They fired from where they believed he was talking from and he couldn't help but chuckle as they stepped away from each other and exposed their backs toward him. He stepped forward once more and put his left gun to the back of Number Two's head and fired. He adjusted his stance and kicked Murphy's legs out from under him. “Men like you don't scare me, Murphy.”

He tilted his head as a new odor joined the mix of blood and gun powder. He looked down at the man on his back and shook his head while he holstered his guns. Ryan Murphy was sitting in a puddle of his own urine. “But apparently I scare the piss out of guys like you.”

Oh God.

He did not just do that!

That's it, he had to stop hanging out with Dick. He was picking up on his bad puns.

“Hey, hey, I got money. I got connections. We don't have to do this.”

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” The Red Hood snarled. “Clearly my work isn't having the desired effect if scum like you think I'll take a bribe.”

He grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him across the dirty floor with his right hand. As they passed the table that the other dead mobster was still on, he grabbed one of the knives with his free hand. The man was trying to pry his grip open while also digging his feet into the ground, but Jason's strength surpassed his.

Ignoring his screaming muscles, Jason lifted the man to his feet and then slammed him into the wall. He leaned all the weight of his own body into his hand, the very hand that was now holding Murphy by the throat. He struggled to breath, his face turning a deep dark red as his eyes started to bulge. Ryan kicked and flailed with his hands, trying desperately to get out of the dire situation.

“You cut up an innocent woman because her husband wanted to put you away.” He twirled the knife deftly in his free hand before bringing it up to eye-level. “You've made an example of anyone who came after you, well. I'm about to make you an example, Murphy.”

One more twirl so that Murphy could see and then he brought down the blade and slashed across his stomach. The man tried to scream but he was still choking to hard. Looking down at the gash he left, Jason was disappointed to see only blood pour from the wound. “You're blades are dull, Murphy, guess I'll have to use mine.”

He loosened his grip just enough for the man to catch a breath and not pass out. He wanted him to live long enough to beg for mercy. He stuck the knife into Murphy's shoulder and smirked as he was finally able to scream. “That's what I love about shoulder wounds. They really fucking hurt.” He chuckled again as he pulled out his own dagger.

The man tried again to squirm and get loose but only found himself choking again as Jason leaned back into his arm. He twirled his knife, a tick he was beginning to realize he had, and then slashed across his stomach once more. The man howled in pain as The Red Hood let him drop to the dirty floor. Finally, he saw what he wanted. The man was trying to hold his intestines in as they started to spill through the second wound.

Beneath his mask he sneered and kicked the man in the face, hard. The man rolled over and cried out in pain. Jason continued to kick at him, his three fall back emotions building with in him until he lost control. Hatred, rage, and pain pushed him to kick the man until he became unnaturally still. He sighed when the red haze cleared and he realized he hadn't really gotten a chance to cut him up more, but maybe for the sake of his own sanity that was a good thing.

He sheathed his knife and aimed his grappling gun up at the cat-walk before a ripping pain ran through the front of his right shoulder. Blinking back surprise he stared at the red arrow sticking out from between his two plates of armor. Loathe as he was to admit it, Arsenal's aim had struck true. Fucking prick.

“Stop where you are, you sick son of a bitch.” The man in red came out from the shadows holding his bow, a second arrow at the ready. “How's that shoulder doing, appreciating the pain yet, asshole?”

“Oh Arsenal.” The Red Hood shook his head before dropping his arm, but not his grappling gun. “You mean to tell me you stood by and watched me kick Ryan Murphy to death and you didn't even try to stop me?”

“I didn't think you were going to kill him.” He glared.

“Well doesn't that just make you another one of Batman's hypocritical acolytes?” The Red Hood looked down at the claw on the end of his grappling gun and then grinned. His body ached, but his shoulder throbbed and burned at once and he needed revenge. “You ever played Mortal Kombat, Arsenal?”

“What?”

He aimed his gun and fired at the confused vigilante's leg. The spear head of the claw went into his left thigh, causing him to shout in pain. He dropped his bow and arrow and then screamed louder as Jason assumed the claw had opened up which meant it was anchored in to bone and muscle good and tight. He was either going to rip a chunk of meat out of the former side-kick or drag the bastard straight to him; it really depended on how much bone the claw had imbedded itself in. Neither option sounded terrible.

“Get over here!” He shouted as he flipped the motor and watched in delight as the man was ripped to the ground and then dragged to him. “Don't ever interfere in my work again, Outsider.”

“Fuck you!” Arsenal hissed through gritted teeth, tears of pain falling from below his mask.

The Red Hood bent down and punched Arsenal as hard as he could, which was actually hard to do with the arrow still sticking out of his shoulder. The prick was out cold though and he was about to rip the claw out of his leg when his conscience finally decided to rear it's ugly head. Roy Harper was a self-righteous junkie shit-head, but his code was a lot closer to his than any of the bat clan and he hadn't hurt them near as bad.

Then again, none of them had shot him in the shoulder either. With an irritable sigh he knelt down and used his knife to cut the cord on his grappling gun. A surgeon or Alfred would be able to get the metal claw out of him and hopefully without Roy having to limp for the rest of his life. He couldn't believe how bad he was suddenly feeling about all of this. The fucker had started it.

He pulled out his card board sign and made sure there wasn't any of his blood on it. He dropped it on top of Ryan Murphy's back on his way out the door. The sooner he got out of the area the better, because any moment Arsenal was going to wake up and call Batman for help. Again the idea that Roy Harper might never don Arsenal's uniform started to make his stomach churn.

He held his shoulder and tried to chase away the guilt by reminding himself how screwed he was. A new fucking wound that matched the Arsenal's arrows would once again make it possible for Dick to figure out that he was JT fucking Bennet. Roy Harper had put his identity at risk, working in a town he didn't even belong in after spending the evening trying to make him look bad! The jerk was just lucky more damage hadn't been done to his leg, all things considered.

 


	18. Debriefing

Chapter 18

 

February 9th

02:00 hrs

 

Bruce looked down at the young man with sympathy. Roy was out of it thanks to the pain killers that they'd given him, but even in sleep he looked in agony. Sweat dripped from his brow, only a sheet covering his now nude body. They'd taken X-Rays of the damage done and knew it was going to be bad. Roy Harper might never fully recover and he couldn't help but take that personally.

Alfred had just called Dr. Leslie Thompkins to get a second opinion on how to extract the claw from his femur. He'd already performed the task of contacting Oliver Queen and informing him of his former protege's current status. The man was as upset as he'd expected him to be. Of course Bruce had invited him to come out as soon as he could, but Oliver hesitated and in the end decided against it.

“Ollie on the way?” Dick asked as he ran down the steps to the batcave still in his police uniform.

“No. He thinks he'll only upset Roy more.” Bruce sighed.

“How bad is it, B?” Dick stopped well out of sight of Roy, clearly afraid of what he'd see.

“We don't know yet. He's going to live, we just don't know if he'll make a full recovery.” Bruce sighed. He was technically in his bat suit, but his cowl was off. There'd been too much going on when he first arrived to shower and change.

“Was it him? Like was it really him this time?” Dick asked as he finally started walking forward. His blue eyes immediately filled with tears when he looked above Roy's head and saw the the x-rays that were held to the large lights above the bed. “No.”

He walked over to his oldest and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing the boy would need comfort and physical acknowledgment that the world was indeed crumbling around one of his best friends. “He's got a a long painful reovery ahead of him, Dick. I think you should call Wally.”

“What happened?” Dick demanded as he turned to face Bruce, his face stricken with despair. “Why did this happen?”

“The Red Hood killed Ryan Murphy and two of his men.” Bruce explained. “I believe Roy arrived just after and tried to apprehend him. He was missing an arrow and I didn't find one in the slaughterhouse.”

“Do you think he got him?”

“With Roy's aim? Yes.”

Dick nodded grimly. “Then we need to start looking out for wounds in the men we're investigating.”

“What'd the sign say?” They both looked up to see Tim leading Alfred and Dr. Thompkins down the stairs.

“It's a Megadeth lyric this time.” Bruce informed him. “ It said: It gives me great pleasure to say my next job is you. Don't you know that killing is my business?...and business is good.”

Alfred frowned as he followed the doctor to Roy Harper, and Bruce didn't miss it. Something about his answer to Tim's question had really bothered the older man. He'd need to remember to talk to him about it later. It was amazing how often Alfred's insight was able to bust a case wide open. Right now, though, he needed Alfred and Leslie focused on Arsenal.

* * *

 

February 10th

18:05 hrs

 

“So something happened the night of our get together.” Dick sighed as he stared down at the table, his blue eyes looking watery.

Jason frowned knowing exactly what he was so upset about. He couldn't deny he felt a bitter stab of jealousy. No one gave a flying fuck about him when he was going through his shit years ago and yet the entire Bat Clan was probably doing everything in their power to protect poor Roy Harper. He relaxed his expression into indifference and looked up at Dick who thankfully hadn't brought his eyes up from the white table cloth.

“OK, what happened?”

“My friend Roy, he,” Once again his boyfriend expelled a breath and a soft sound that spoke volumes about how upset he was. “he might never walk again.”

Oh please, Roy Harper would walk just fine. He might limp, but there was no way he was losing the leg. He refused to believe that. “What? How?”

“He was,” Dick paused and Jason knew that he was trying to figure out how best to explain what a millionaire's ward was doing in the middle of the slums of Gotham City at one in the fucking morning. “Well, he was walking to a bar and he heard some screaming and when he went in this guy shot him in the leg.”

“That doesn't make any sense” Jason challenged, his lip curling into a sneer. “Some guy just randomly shoots him in the leg? Did they get the guy?”

“No, it was um, it was that serial killer.” Dick bit his lip.

“Wait, if it was a serial killer...

“It was The Red Hood.” He admitted to Jason's surprise.

“You mean the guy trying to clean up the trash in this shit-hole? I though all the cops loved that freak.” He smirked.

“No we don't.” Now it was Dick's turn to sneer. “The guy is a murderer. He's no hero. He's a lunatic who is basically seeking revenge for whatever happened to him in his life.”

“If he's such a bad guy, why didn't he kill your friend?”

“You know you could show a little compassion for Roy.”

He ran his hands over his face and through his hair as he took a deep calming breath. “Fine, fine. So the guy shot Roy in the leg and he's not going to walk again, did he lose the leg or something?”

“No, they didn't have to amputate, but this claw thing...It embedded itself in his femur and it's still touch and go. They're watching for infections and...” Jason couldn't help but roll his eyes as he listened to Dick yammer on about the woes of his fucking bestie. It wasn't until he realized Dick had stopped speaking that he knew he'd been caught. “What's your problem?”

“Didn't care much for him. I'm sorry that you're friend is hurt, but he wasn't exactly welcoming. He was a douche-bag.”

What was his problem? That was rich. His problem was the fact that Dickie-Bird and all his stupid friends had always looked down on him, including Roy Harper. Yeah he liked to pretend he was some streetwise kid in the know, but he wasn't. None of Dick's stupid friends knew what it was like to grow up out there with a Dad who'd sooner beat you than feed you and to be so desperately hungry that you'd offer anything just to surv-

No. He had to stop. He couldn't go back there. Especially not in front of Dick.

He barely caught what Dick had been saying. Something about him needing to see past the pride and protectiveness of Roy. It seemed like Dick was trying to calm himself down and yet thanks to his own wandering memories, Jason was just getting more and more pissed. He took a drink of his wine and let the burn of the harsh, dry liquid pull his focus back to the present.

“OK fine, Dick, I get it. OK? I'm sorry. His life sucked and now it might suck more.” Jason shrugged.

“I just, I can't believe you're being so callous about this. I'd think you could relate?” Dick frowned. His blue eyes were a mixture of fury and sadness, but unlike what Jason had once promised, it wasn't breaking his heart to see him frown. Not yet, at least. “You went through the same thing he did. You were attacked by freaks in masks-”

“Oh please.” JT rolled his eyes. “Roy was a complete fucker! I got attacked by said freaks for doing my job. He got attacked for sticking his nose where it didn't belong! You said so yourself.”

“That's not how I put it at all. I said he heard someone crying out in pain and went to investigate.”

“Who the fuck does that in Gotham? It's not like he's a cop with a fucking gun to protect himself!” He argued. “I mean really? Who fucking does that?”

“He's been here plenty of times and he's never been hurt before.” Dick glared. “He was trying to do the right thing.”

“Interrupt a psycho killing another psycho when he's not even armed? Why didn't he just call the fucking cops?”

“You are so oblivious! That's not even what this is about!” Dick hissed. “You brought it up yourself at dinner the other night, he has a history with opioids!.”

“So?”

“So he's going to be on pain killers for quite some time! He could fall into the habit again, the chances are extremely high that he'll get addicted and you can't know what that will cost him. His whole life could be set back, if not ruined.” He gritted his teeth as he tried to calm down, but JT could see that it wasn't helping. If anything he was just getting angrier. “He needs some compassion.”

“All the more reason he should have minded his own fucking business.” JT snarled as teal blue eyes narrowed. “I've met guys like Roy Harper all my life. He thinks because he walked through Hell once it gives him the right to just do what the fuck he wants. He needs to be knocked down a peg.”

“So you think he deserves this? He doesn't deserve to walk, he doesn't deserve to remain sober?” Dick clenched his fists and when JT shrugged, he lost it. He stood up and glared down at his still seated boyfriend as he grabbed his wine glass. “You're an asshole JT and he was completely right about you. Call me if you ever find some compassion for someone other than yourself!”

JT's eyes widened in shock as Dick tossed wine in his face. He knew Dick had a flair for the dramatic, but this was a bit much. If his shoulder wasn't hurting so bad, along with several other parts of his body, he'd chase after him. Instead, he sat quietly in the restaurant as everyone stared and whispered around him.

After taking several calming breaths he wiped his face off with the cloth napkin. He dropped a few twenties to cover the drinks and the mess and then left the over priced establishment. His eyes scanned all around him, trying to see if Dick was still around, but it appeared that he'd already taken off in a hurry.

He knew that Dick would be upset about Roy, but he had no clue it would cause this much trouble. Again that nagging guilt started creeping it's way into his stomach but it wasn't mixing well with the bitter jealousy and hatred that had taken up residence since he'd first awoken. Yes, maybe he could have gone a bit easier on Arsenal, but really, the man shouldn't have interfered to begin with. The Red Hood had made it clear that he would not tolerate anyone getting in his way. Hopefully now they'd all take his threats seriously.

JT fished out his cigarettes and lighter, lit one and pocketed the items and began the walk to his hotel. He smoked with his left hand because his right shoulder was throbbing painfully. At least Dick didn't get a chance to notice the injury and question him. Who knew, if Dick stayed pissed long enough for his arm to heal, he might escape any suspicion altogether.

He inhaled deeply and tried to fight the ache in his heart, the break that he'd promised Dick he'd feel if he ever saw the Golden Boy frown. How fucking pathetic? He couldn't believe he was sitting here pouting because his boyfriend had just dumped him for being asshole. This shouldn't even matter and yet it did. How the Hell did he wind up here?

* * *

 

Alfred slipped into the room that no one even acknowledged anymore. It had been closed off permanently. He didn't even come in to dust or open the windows, which he realized might have been a mistake. The air was stuffy and dirty smelling. It wasn't foul like something rotting, just the dirt smelling odor that comes with too many years' collection of dust.

There was a full sized bed with the headboard against the middle of the back wall. The window was to the side along with a short shelf filled with movies and CDs, while on the other side of his bed was a desk where he'd always worked on his assignments for both school and Batman. Posters of various rock stars or bands lined the walls. It was as if he was forever fifteen.

He looked at the large book shelf that was opposite his bed and looked over the titles carefully. Most of the books were required reading or text books. Only one shelf contained actual novels that he'd shown interest in. He knew he liked to read and Alfred had done everything he could to get the boy to take pride in it instead of being embarrassed.

That had changed on one uneventful afternoon during the boy's first six months with them. He had walked into the kitchen while Alfred was going through the mail. Bruce had just purchased some rare book about old hospital techniques. It wasn't ordered because the book had been a first edition, but because it was simply the last of it's kind and Bruce needed it for a case.

The boy had picked it up and looked at with such wonder and it was the first time he'd ever seen him handle anything so gently. There had been so much interest in the old book that when Alfred figured out how much he liked to read, he started purchasing first editions when possible. The Three Musketeers, The Count Of Monte Cristo, Pride and Prejudice, Bram Stoker's Dracula, and a few others had been given to the boy. One area had been designated for the books he'd loved and just beside the early editions, the teen had kept newer copies of the books for actual reading.

He turned from the shelf, his control of his emotions starting to slip from his grasp. He walked then to the short shelf under his window that held all the CD's. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. It was Megadeth's debut album, _Killing Is My Business...and Business Is Good!_ He held the plastic case in his hands, staring at it as if it would give him all the answers he was seeking.

“If only you could know how much I miss you, Master Todd. How much we all miss you.” He whispered quietly to himself.

* * *

 

February 12th

08:40 hrs

 

Tim stood beside his brother as Roy was debriefed by Bruce. Roy was lying in the same bed he'd been in and out of consciousness since they'd brought him to the cave. His father was sitting in a large black desk chair while Dick was kneeling next to his friend and holding his hand, something Tim was fairly certain that Roy hadn't noticed yet or he would have shook his hand loose.

His brother's friend would definitely walk again, but no one knew for sure how much mobility he would have. It was all going to depend on Roy's tolerance for pain and his ability to keep from getting depressed. There was a very long, very hard road ahead of the man they'd come to know as friend and colleague.

“What did he say when you first entered the slaughterhouse?” Bruce asked, and Tim couldn't help but notice the way he kept blinking to refocus his eyes.

“He shouted in pain because I shot him with an arrow.” He pointed to the very spot on his own shoulder. “Right there. Then he taunted me.”

“How did he taunt you?” Bruce followed up.

Roy looked extremely uncomfortable. “He uh, he pointed something out, called me Arsenal and called me one of your acolytes.”

“Anything he said, could be useful.” Dick tried to coax him into saying more, but Tim had a feeling that Roy was deeply ashamed of whatever The Red Hood had used to insult him. “We need to know everything we can about this guy.”

It was obvious that he didn't want to answer but between Bruce and Dick, Roy never stood a chance. One way or another, his brother and his father were going to make sure that the archer told them everything they wanted and or needed to know about his confrontation with The Red Hood.

“I'm so sorry, Bruce. Really I am.” Roy insisted but before anyone could ask him why, he started talking again. “I watched him. I watched him kill Ryan Murphy and I didn't confront him until I knew for sure that the scumbag wasn't going to get back up. Until The Hood tried to escape.”

Dick's jaw dropped as he shook his head in disbelief. Tim had to admit that he was pretty surprised by this as well. Everyone knew that Roy had a temper and that he'd never been one to take it easy on a criminal, but this was too much. How could Roy have watched someone murder another human being in cold blood?

“I shot him then,” Roy continued. “I asked him if he was enjoying the pain since he'd told Ryan that shoulder wounds were the best because of how badly they hurt.” He paused as if waiting to be yelled at, but Bruce remained perfectly still, simply waiting for him to continue. “He asked if I'd been there the whole time why I didn't stop him.”

“Why didn't you?” Bruce asked somberly.

“I'd read about Ryan Murphy, I recognized him and after seeing the mess of what I assume was a man, that he left on that table...I, I couldn't bring myself to save him, Bruce. I just...I couldn't.” His eyes looked haunted and angry and Tim noticed that Roy was squeezing Dick's hand harder, leaving his earlier theory in the dust. “He used one of Murphy's knives to cut him open but it didn't work and then he took one of his own blades and disemboweled him and then he just went nuts and kicked him to death. I was so shocked I couldn't I, I...”

“How did you respond when he asked why you didn't stop him?” Tim asked to make sure that this discussion stayed on point. Dick looked up at him with a grateful smile and then turned back to face Roy.

“I told him I didn't think he would kill him, but I could tell he knew better. He called me a hypocrite and an acolyte of yours before he asked if I'd ever played Mortal Kombat.”

“What?” Bruce sounded confused.

Tim tilted his head and then frowned as he realized what The Red Hood was referencing. “One of the ninjas in the video game could shoot a biological cable out of his hand that would drag his opponent to him. The ninja would then attack with a punch or kick when the opponent was close enough.” He explained to his father.

“That's when he aimed the grappling gun at me and shot me with it. When I was dragged to him he said not to interfere in his work again. I cursed him and he hit me.” Roy finished.

“Hmm, and you didn't see his face or hear his real voice?” Roy shook his head before Bruce continued his inquiry. “Was there anything he said to Ryan Murphy that stood out to you?”

“Actually, yes. A few things. When I got there he was telling Murphy that Cannibalism was really old and not that scary and that men like him weren't either. Then he made some crack about the guy pissing himself, because he had. It was a bad pun, it kind of reminded me of...” Roy frowned as he looked at Dick. “I mean way more crass, but still just as corny.”

“I see.” Bruce wrote down most of what Roy was telling him and Tim was memorizing it as best he could. This was far more helpful than he probably realized. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, after that Murphy tried to bribe him and that's when he seemed to get really mad. He said something like 'clearly my work isn't effective enough if you think you can bribe me.' or something really similar.” Again Roy paused before he continued. “Then he told Murphy that he'd known what he did to the DA's wife and that since he liked making examples of people he was going to make him one to the rest of Gotham.”

“When did he bring up the shoulder thing?” Dick asked.

“Oh! When the first knife wouldn't cut deep enough he stabbed it into his shoulder and said it before he used his own.” Roy squinted his eyes as if he was trying to think of something and then the tension was released. “He has a tic, I think.”

“A tic?” Bruce frowned.

“Yeah, like, he couldn't help but twirl the knives. He did it with Murphy's knife once when he couldn't see, then once again where Murphy could. When he grabbed his own dagger, he twirled it, too.” Roy mimicked the motion with the hand that Dick wasn't clinging to.

“We'll make sure we look over all of our case notes.” Bruce assured him. “Was there anything else you can think of?”

Again Tim watched as Roy's brows furrowed and he ran through the events again. Once more those dark green eyes widened. “Outsider..He called me Outsider!” Roy smiled. “He's a Gotham native!”

* * *

 

“Why did you guys interrogate him when you have his body camera?” Dick demanded once they were out of earshot.

Tim stepped back, but Bruce didn't seem at all concerned. “Because I wanted his impression, Dick. Because I wanted to know what Roy saw, what Roy felt.”

“No, you just wanted to know if he would lie about how long he was there!” Dick growled, his blue eyes narrowing.

“That simply isn't true, but if that's what you want to believe then so be it.” Bruce shrugged. “Now, I have an investigation to continue. You are welcome to join me and Tim, but I will not tolerate any more of your accusations, Dick.”

Dick stormed off, leaving the bat-cave altogether. Bruce let out an exasperated sigh and he pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing shut. There was a long silence and Tim wanted nothing more than to interrogate him, to demand to know what was wrong with him and why he was refusing to talk about it. Neither Dick nor Barbara were willing to go that far; instead they insisted that if it was really bad Bruce or Alfred would tell them.

He went to the computer set up and got the video ready, knowing that Bruce would want to see it as soon as possible. He was right of course. Bruce joined him only seconds later. They both watched the video through once in complete silence, neither of them taking notes or making comments. It was hard to watch. The second and third time was spent looking up and down from the video to their note pads, both scribbling away.

“Do we still have the letter that Dick received from The Red Hood?” Bruce asked.

“Of course.” Tim jumped up and went to the filing cabinet and fished it out.

Bruce's eyes moved back and forth as he quickly read the paper and then started jotting down notes once more. He handed it back to Tim and instead of putting it back right away, Tim did the same thing while Bruce was pulling up the audio from the night Two-Face was killed. Again he listened to it a few times and then wrote down a few more things.

“Ready to compare?” Bruce's voice sounded angry and barely in control. It was a sign that he was getting too riled up and both men knew it.

“Yeah.” Tim nodded because he needed to give Bruce his out. “You go first.”

“This man isn't just someone random,” Bruce began. “he's someone we personally knew and he's someone who knew our identities.”

“That can't be though. No one who knows who we are matches his description.” Tim frowned. “It's gotta be someone who later learned our identity.”

“No.” Bruce shook his head. “He talked to Dick as if they'd always talked to one another. He isn't just aware of who we are, he's familiar with us. He's comfortable with us and despite all of his threats to kill us if we interfered, he's yet to actually inflict any major harm.”

Tim nodded. “If anything, he's protected us.”

Bruce's expression hardened. “What he did to Roy...

“It felt personal.” Tim finished for him and pulled the Arsenal body cam up and then brought it to the point he'd shot The Red Hood. “Watch his body language here. He's in pain, but then he relaxes and shakes his head. As if chiding himself. He straightens up, but his hip is still slightly cocked. He wasn't afraid of Arsenal, but the tightness in his arms was either from pain or anger.”

“Everything this guy does is angry.” Bruce added in agreement. “He wanted to hurt Arsenal, he wanted to make him bleed.”

“He knew Arsenal, not just because of reputation, but because he actually knows him.” Tim nodded. “It wasn't just because he'd tried to stop him, he's mad about something personal. This is the first time he's actually brought serious harm to another vigilante.”

“As if he was settling a score.” Bruce tilted his head and then looked down at his notes. “And he was. Listen to the way he says outsider. He knows Roy isn't from here and he's angered that anyone outside of Gotham would interfere.”

“Perhaps, it's more specific than that, Sir.” Alfred announced as he walked over and handed each of them some coffee. “Perhaps it's not just that he's from a different city, but because he's from a different team.”

Tim's eyes widened. “That could be exactly it!” He exclaimed. “It's like because he wasn't a member of the Bat-Clan than he had no business being there.”

Bruce sipped his coffee and thought about it long and hard. “I think that could be a good guess, but there is no way to confirm it.”

“With all due respect, Bruce, his interactions do prove it.” Tim disagreed. “He was easy on us, you said so yourself. Despite his threats he never actually put us in harm's way or inflicted any real damage, but the moment another vigilante from a completely different city shows up he's incapacitated, possibly forever.”

“I agree with you, Tim, but there still is no real confirmation until one of us faces him again. He could just be getting more violent. Next time he might do the same to us.” Bruce pointed out. “We can't just assume that whoever he is, he's not going to hurt us.”

“Of course and I don't think we should rely on him not harming us, I just think it's significant in finding out who he really is.” Tim explained.

Bruce accepted the comment and then started at the beginning of the video again. “Do you see that.” He pointed to the screen. He paused it just after The Red Hood stopped kicking Murphy. “What do you see, Tim?”

Tim looked over his notes and then replayed the video before frowning.

“He's disappointed and angry.” Alfred supplied. “He lost control of himself when he started kicking Murphy and at this point he is angry that he lost control.”

“He isn't stable. He had something else planned, I just know it.” Bruce grumbled. “He plans things but even without outside interference he still has no grasp of actual discipline.”

“Because it's personal.” Tim sighed. “It's really personal. He's losing himself to something, some event or trauma. He didn't even notice Harper when he was calm. He zeroes in on what he's doing and he gets tunnel vision.”

Alfred frowned as he recalled similar discussions about one of their own. He felt his hands start to shake and he knew he couldn't stay down there any longer. He quietly dismissed himself and left the bat-cave, his heart aching as he felt more and more confused about what was happening. If JT Bennet was The Red Hood it made sense why he went after Harper the way he had; but it made even more sense if The Red Hood was someone else, too.

It was definitely time for him to begin his own investigation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a lot of time off recently so I've been working really hard on getting this going. As some of you have already pointed out, suspicions are starting to grow and we all know that as people start figuring this shit out, it means the world is going to start unraveling for our characters fast. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you have any questions, comments or concerns feel free to hit me up. Thanks so much for reading!


	19. Twice In One Day

Chapter 19

 

February 13th

1822hrs

 

Dick and Wally were upstairs in one of the guest rooms that Bruce had allowed Roy to stay in. The three were laughing about some adventure gone wrong instead of dwelling on Roy's recovery. Both were impressed by the archer's good attitude and willingness to smile but then, it hadn't been more than twenty four hours since he'd left the bat-cave. There was still a concern that the reality of his life hadn't hit him yet.

Roy had been pretty positive, especially after Barbara had come by and promised to return later that evening when he wasn't entertaining Dick and Wally. Honestly, he and Wally were both surprised they hadn't been kicked out right then and there. Then again, Barbara did have a lot of work to do and not with Batman/Bruce for once.

For the sixth time that day, Dick ignored the sudden vibration in his pocket. He knew who it was and he didn't really care to speak to him. The man had been calling all day long and he wasn't in the mood to hear his half-assed apologies.

“Dude, answer your phone.” Roy grumbled. “It's driving me crazy. He's called what, six times in the last two hours?”

“I have nothing to say to him.” Dick replied.

“Sure you do.” Wally glared. “Tell him you guys are over and to stop calling you!”

Dick couldn't help but regret telling his two best friends what had happened at dinner that night. It made it harder to forgive him when they knew what he'd done. Surprisingly, Roy had shrugged it off, said it was just some machismo bull-shit and that it wasn't a big deal. Wally had been as outraged and offended as Roy should have been. The speedster had threatened to go and show him just what a broken femur felt like.

“I'll, I'll be right back.” He sighed as he stepped out of the room and answered the buzzing cell phone. “Hello?”

“Bout time you answered.” JT said, but despite the words that would normally have been snapped, he sounded almost sad.

“What do you want, JT?” He needed to sound angry, he needed him to understand that he was mad and that his behavior had been unacceptable.

There was a long silence, so long in fact that Dick had to look at his phone to be sure that they hadn't been disconnected.

“JT?” Dick frowned.

“So you just fucking break up with me without even telling me?” JT growled angrily, but there was something else in his tone, something that Dick was sure he'd never head in his voice before. “You haven't returned my calls or texts in days!”

Rolling his baby blues, Dick sneaked into a bedroom so that he could have some privacy from his two friends. “It was a bit of a shock finding out how supremely selfish and cruel you are.”

“Selfish and cruel?” JT snickered and that just made Dick angrier. “You have no idea.” He grumbled. “Look, Dick, if you don't want me then have the balls to fucking say so.”

“That's just it!” Dick nearly shouted. “I do want you! I like you, I may even be falling in love with you, but you're mean.”

A bark of laughter ignited his rage. “Mean? I'm mean? What are we twelve?”

“No, I'm not. I'm an adult and maybe that's the problem, JT, because yes. You. Are. Mean. You laugh when people get hurt, you roll your eyes when I say something kind to you. You're mean.” Dick shook his head and sat on the bed in the middle of the room. “Let me ask you this, JT, do you want me? Do you actually want me? Because hours before you met my family you told me you wanted to take things to the next level, or” He paused because it hurt to ask and he feared how JT would answer. “or did you just say that for the sex.”

“Oh for fuck's sake.” The younger man snarled. “I've already fucked you, Dick.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means we've already had sex!”

“No kidding, JT, but what about it? What's your point?”

“That is my point! I've had sex with you. It's not like I'm trying to get in your pants when I've already been in them! Fuck!” He cursed and paused again. “I just need to know if I should cancel our reservations for Valentine's Day, tomorrow.”

Dick fell quiet along with his, well he wasn't sure what they were anymore, but he was fairly sure he wasn't his boyfriend. He wasn't sure if he could get over how JT had reacted to Roy's injuries. Like the guy or not, it was unacceptable to be so hateful and inhumane. At least for Dick it was.

He didn't want to be with someone who had no value for others. How had he missed that in JT? The guy was definitely not his type with his boorish behavior and selfishness and yet something had drawn him in. Something he couldn't name or place. It had been all instinct and thanks to his fall hard and fast personality, Dick had done the rest.

“Cancel the reservations, JT.” Dick sighed and waited to hear him scream and shout at him.

The shouting never came. Instead there was a long unnatural silence that had him looking at his phone yet again to see if they were still connected. He wasn't going to break the silence this time. If he did, he might end up apologizing and changing his mind, but he couldn't hang up either. It felt needlessly cruel to just hang up.

“I-” He finally spoke but immediately stalled. “Alright. I'll, um, get on that then.” Dick was surprised by the change of intensity in his voice. He recognized the emotion that he'd heard earlier when JT was ripping him a new one. It was hurt and bitterness. “Good thing I called. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Dick stared at his phone, watching it return to the home screen. He blinked as he tried not to let his guilt eat at him, but he couldn't deny it. JT was hurt and Dick had just rejected him. Just ended it with him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't wrong to do it, he knew that, but he hated to cause anyone pain.

* * *

 

February 13th

2356hrs

 

Batman frowned as he came upon the scene. No sign. That was good, at least it meant that The Red Hood wasn't involved. Lately, anytime he investigated a murder he prepared himself for the inevitable cardboard sign, with stylized writing similar to that of most of the more clever signs that the homeless would use to beg for money, food or in the cases of the truly arrogant, drugs and alcohol.

He knelt down and felt his head spin. His stomach rolled as he tried and failed to get everything to stop rotating and moving. His hands held tight to the ground and he barely registered the fact that he was on his hands and knees. Or had he just fallen to his side and was now nearly in the fetal position beside a dead body?

“B!” He heard a voice shout and when he tried to look up he saw only shadows moving about. Who called him B? Of course. Nightwing/Dick, both persona’s used the nickname for obvious reasons. He tried to get to his feet, but his head was in agony and his vision was blurring heavily. “Easy, big guy.” Why did that voice sound so strange? “Close your eyes or you'll vomit.”

For possibly the first time in his life while wearing the cowl, he did what someone else told him to do. He closed his eyes and tried to replay the voice he'd just heard. He was certain it was not human and just as he was starting to make a connection to some bit of information, he felt himself floating and moving through the air.

He tried to peer through mostly closed lids and found that he'd been placed in the Batmobile. He looked to the driver's seat and was certain he saw Dick or was it Tim that wore a red domino mask? No, neither wore red masks; theirs were black. Was there blood? He couldn't make out anything about the face with his vision failing him and the more he tried to force his eyes to focus, the more his temples throbbed.

“Close your fucking eyes, Old Man!” The voice snarled and he was vaguely aware that it was mechanized. Something else was coming to him when another wave of nausea rolled through. “We're almost there. Just hold on Batman.”

When he came to he wasn't aware of when or how he'd lost consciousness. Dr. Thompkins, Dick and Alfred were helping him into the bat-cave. His head had finally stopped throbbing and his vision was starting to clear. He almost wished it hadn't when he saw the look of angered grief on Tim's face as he stood beside the bed he knew he was being taken to.

“Who came and got me?” He croaked.

“No one.” Dick sighed. “We were hoping you would tell us what happened.”

“I have to admit I was a bit surprised to see the 911 message on my phone.” Alfred frowned as held his neck and head steady while Dick swept his legs out from under him; both men maneuvering carefully to lay him down on the bed.

“What are you talking about?” Bruce shook his head as he tried to sit up. Three arms came across his chest and barred him from doing so. “What message?”

Dick handed him his phone and pointed to a group text message addressed to Dr. Thompkins, Alfred, Tim, & Dick that read: 911. Meet me at the Bat-cave ASAP. Losing consciousness. Batmobile is bringing me in now.

“I didn't send that message. I would have included Barbara if I had.” Bruce tried to assure them. “Someone was there. Someone was driving, someone strong enough to lift and then carry me to the batmobile.”

“It doesn't matter for the moment. What matters is what happened. Were you hurt?” Tim demanded in a very testy tone. He should have known this was coming. “No? Didn't think so. Were you poisoned? Doubtful.”

“Timmy.” Dick glared.

“No, he's right.” Bruce sighed. “I've been hiding something from you both for quite some time now but I can't keep it from you anymore.”

“What?” His heart clenched at the hurt tone in Dick's voice.

“I have a brain tumor.”

 

* * *

 

February 14th

1230hrs

 

“Mr. Bennet?” JT Bennet looked up from his desk and was clearly surprised to see him. He took that as a good sign, because really, he was hoping this guy was on the up and up. Few took a beating the way the young man had and after questioning several of Black Mask's men after the attack nearly two weeks ago, his own respect for the kid sky rocketed.

“Detective Bullock,” JT greeted and moved a few strands of black and white hair from his darkened eyes. Harvey still couldn't get over it and wanted to ask him if he did that on purpose or if it was one of those trauma/stress things he'd heard about. He also couldn't help but notice that he seemed exhausted and a little gloomy. “Anything I can do for you?”

He went ahead and took a seat in front of the small desk and sighed. The place wasn't very grand which he liked. Very down to Earth with no accolades or family photos; Just the required licenses pinned to the walls. “I wanted to thank you for the information on Matthew Harris and Blake Hunter.”

Arching his right brow the kid stared at him skeptically. “They both quit, Detective.”

“Yeah, I know that. It's a shame.” Harvey sighed because it was a shame. This company might be getting more funding from Wayne Enterprises, but it wasn't going to do any damned good if they couldn't get any one to work on the project.

JT frowned as his expression changed from impatience to irritation. “Was that it, Detective Bullock?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then what is it?” It was obvious that the twenty-one year old was trying not to lose his temper, something he was well known for doing according to the myriad of reports he'd gone over.

“Would you mind telling me where you were last night at about ten o' clock?” He asked and made sure that he was looking JT directly in the eyes and watching for any facial ques. The kid seemed genuinely shocked to be asked that question, but then his face returned to the irritated scowl.

“I was in my hotel room; why?”

“Do you remember the detective that joined me in taking your statement at the hospital?” Bullock asked, completely ignoring his question.

“Yeah.” JT scowled. “He was a creepy little fuck who I didn't trust.”

“We found him this morning and it wasn't pretty.” And boy wasn't it. The man had been found bloody and beaten, his blackened and busted face unrecognizable. They were only able to identify him because of his wallet and prints.

JT didn't even bother hiding his indifference from him and he couldn't really blame the guy since he'd been right about him being Black Mask's man. “Am I supposed to be surprised?”

“Can you tell me why you aren't?”

“Crooked cop that most likely worked for Black Mask and took nothing but pleasure in seeing me beat to shit? Yeah if he got his ass kicked or something, I'm not in the least bit surprised.”

Good. He didn't seem to know that Kitzky was dead and he looked sincere. Of course he knew it could be a lie. If the kid was smart and the murderer he would have been prepared to speak to law enforcement. Still, Harvey had to sell it though; he wasn't allowed to rejoice in another man's demise.

“He's dead.” Bullock sneered, once more needing to put the pressure on JT so that he could determine if he was really a suspect or not. “He didn't get his ass kicked, he was shot four times.” That was a lie to see if he would show confusion. According to the coroner Kitzky was beaten with a large chain and then stabbed twice in the throat. It was pretty brutal and he hadn't believed for one second that it was JT Bennet but it was his job to check on every lead.

“Good.” JT shrugged his broad shoulders, not once looking away from the Detective.

“Can anyone corroborate your alibi?” He could tell by the tightening of the kid's jaw that there wasn't. “Perhaps, Officer Grayson?”

“No.” JT answered flatly. “He dumped me.”

“Oh.” Harvey was a little shocked by that, considering the entire squad had been giving him shit about visiting Mr. Bennet every day he was in the hospital. “How about security footage from the Hotel?”

The young man blinked and then shrugged. “Yes, I don't see why not. Look, I'm sure it sucks that one of your own died, but I could give a rats ass about him. I can't be investigated for some bull shit murder right now either. Anything else goes wrong and I'll have a hostile take over on my hands. So do me a favor and get this over with as thoroughly but quickly as you can.”

“Do you mind writing down that address for me?” Bullock smiled feeling a lot better about being able to cross him off the list.

It took only a few seconds for JT locate a pad and paper. He started writing out the address and name of the hotel he was staying in. He then tore the information off the page and handed it over.

“Hey, I really appreciate you're cooperation. I know Kitzky didn't leave much of an impression on you.”

“I can't imagine he left much of an impression on anyone, Detective.” JT sneered.

“No, I suppose he didn't.”

* * *

 

February 14th

1330 hrs

 

Alfred had been sitting with Tim, going over The Red Hood case in the guise of being supportive to the young man. Last night had taken it's toll on them all and he while he was trying to keep Timothy's spirits up, he wasn't going to deny that he was also taking advantage of the work Bruce's young ward was currently working on.

“Dick shouldn't have gone into work today.”

“Now Master Drake, I know that you are aware that we all cope in different ways.” Alfred placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “You are both reasonably upset, but Dick needs to keep his mind on other things or he will allow himself to be consumed by everything that's going wrong in his life right now.”

“I suppose it's not easy breaking up with the guy you just introduced to your family, your best friend being decommissioned, and then finding out your father has a brain tumor.” Tim sighed and kept scrolling through the picture evidence that GCPD had gathered.

“No I don't suppose it is, Master Drake.”

The two were sitting side by side in the bat-cave at the large computer station. Tim had been tasked with going over any footage to see if there were any more videos of him twirling his knives. If Dick had stayed home as Dr. Thompkins suggested, he would have been charged with going over any physical evidence they had. Since Bruce was in bed he couldn't possibly go over his own suit's body camera, but that was what Alfred was focused on.

He pulled the headphones on over his ears and listened to the audio only. He kept his eyes closed and listened carefully. There was the typical noise associated with Bruce's movements in the suit and then there was a scuffling sound that he knew meant he'd fallen to the ground. There was muffled noises here and there and then came the distorted voice he'd expected.

“B!” Even modulated, Alfred could hear the concern, but he couldn't loose focus just yet. He needed to hear it all. “Easy, Big Guy.” Concern and possibly fear were noted. “Close your eyes or you'll vomit!” Several minutes of scuffling, the sound of the vehicle's doors opening and closing and then road noise. “Close your fucking eyes, Old Man!” Anger and irritation, definitely. “We're almost there. Just hold on, Batman.” Fear again.

He scratched the words down on his notepad and listened to only a few more minutes of noise before he heard the vehicle come to a stop. “This is where I leave you. Don't die on me. It'll ruin everything.” He could hear several things happening. A phone beeping which he assumed was the text message they'd all received and then the auto-pilot was being programmed. “Your family will be waiting for you. Get your ass home and take care of this before it kills you!”

A car door shut and then the car was moving again. He listened until he heard them getting Bruce out of the car. He turned it off and then went through the video next. He wasn't at all shocked to see the body camera had been covered from the moment that Bruce fell to his side. There was nothing to see but Bruce's cape until once again, he and the other two were getting him out of the batmobile.

“Master Drake, you need to listen to this.” He handed over the headphones and stared down at his notes. It was definitely The Red Hood, of that there was no doubt. Only Dick called Bruce 'B' and Lord knew the murderous vigilante had hacked into their communications network enough times to have picked up on it.

Why there was so much emotion coming through was what he didn't want to think about. He didn't know for sure when it happened exactly, but for Alfred, there was only one suspect as to who was lurking under the mask of The Red Hood. He couldn't be sure just yet and he didn't want to make any unjust accusations so he decided to keep it to himself for just a little longer.

“I can't believe it was him who saved, Bruce.” Drake frowned when he removed the headphones. “It still proves my point that there was definitely something far more offensive to him about Arsenal than any of us. Once again this guy is protecting us.”

“Was there a sign left with the deceased that Bruce was investigating?” Alfred asked.

“No. The man Batman found wasn't a criminal, just the victim of a mugging.” Tim explained. “Maybe The Red Hood was coming to investigate the homicide as well?”

“Or perhaps he was going to confront Batman when he saw him fall.” Alfred suggested.

“If that's true why didn't he kill him? It would have been the perfect opportunity.” Tim showed his disagreement with an irritated question. It was something that he'd caught Tim doing a lot more frequently as of late.

“He may be a murderer, but he does seem to have some kind of honor code. Perhaps he didn't think it very sporting to kick a man while he's down.” He knew Tim disagreed, but Alfred was once again standing and heading back inside the manor. He needed to prepare dinner, but first he wanted to make a stop to check on Bruce who was dutifully lying in bed resting. He ignored the small voice in his head reminding him how close Master Todd's room was to Bruce's.

 

* * *

 

February 14th

1715 hrs

 

Jason frowned when he saw Dick in his police uniform standing outside his construction offices. He was so not in the mood to be JT Bennet, especially considering that Dick's eyes were set determinedly on the ground as if he was preparing himself for something. With as much force of will as he could muster, he walked passed him and headed to his car.

“JT Bennet, I need to speak with you on behalf of the GCPD.”

“No you don't, Dick.” He snarled. “A detective was already here earlier and if he has any more questions about some prick cop he'll come to me. He isn't going to send some beat cop to do his job.”

“Some prick? A detective, JT and he is dead!” Dick growled back as he approached him.

“Good riddance.” He snapped back as he turned to face him. “The guy was probably in Black Mask's pocket.”

“Do you even know how he died?” He demanded heatedly.

“He was shot four times.” He shrugged.

“You said Harvey talked to you today?” His ex frowned looking momentarily confused.

“ I don't recall indicating it was Bullock, but yeah. He came by during my lunch hour. Why? What do you want?” Jason really didn't feel like going over this again. He was tired, irritable and there was lot weighing on his mind. There should be a lot weighing on his mind, too! Didn't he fucking care that Bruce was...He tried to ignore the anger.

“Oh.” His voice softened and then he shook his head. “He wasn't shot four times. He was beaten half to death and then stabbed in the throat a couple of times.”

Wait a second, was he? Was he actually? No. Not today. Not twice in one fucking day! Rage, pure unadulterated rage coursed through him as he realized why Dick was there. His teal blue eyes darkened.

“You son of a bitch.” He hissed as grabbed the shorter man by his collar with both hands and slammed the man into his own cop car. “You came here to accuse me of murder!?”

He couldn't believe it. After all these years, he thought for sure he'd gotten over the Felipe fiasco; that he was no longer reeling from the hurt and anger he'd felt when Batman hadn't even bothered to ask him what happened. Dick, too had just stood there shaking his head in disgust and neither one of them had even asked if he'd done it.

Dick slapped his hands off him and then glared back as he shoved him away. “No! That's not it all!”

His eyes were so wide that Jason didn't know if it was because he'd correctly jumped to the right conclusion and he wasn't expecting it, or if he'd veered way off course and Dick was stunned that Jason would think that. Either way, the look on his face cooled the flames of his anger.

“I came by to find out if you knew anything about what happened to Matthew Harris and Blake Hunter. I wasn't aware that Harvey was the Detective on Kitzky's murder and I got distracted when you said so! I apologize.” The ravenette looked up at the sky and shook his head. “I came by to see if you were OK and as I mentioned earlier, on official police business.”

Wait, what had happened to Matt and Blake? “What happened to them?” Jason voiced the question aloud and watched as Dick's expression fell. That could only mean one thing. When the Hell had that happened? “You've gotta be shitting me.”

“JT, I am so, so sorry. I don't know how well you knew them, but I am informing you that the two men you named in a statement were found dead this afternoon, shortly after your meeting with Detective Bullock, it sounds like.”

Jason shook his head and tried to understand what the fuck just happened. Dick showed up and he jumped to conclusions thanks to almost no sleep and his extra-curriculars. Yep. That's what happened. Those conclusions could have been the biggest mistake he'd made since he decided he was smart and bold enough to actually date Dick and keep both of his secret identities to himself.

Two more men were dead, three now with a connection to him, but also with a connection to the Black Mask. That was what Dick was doing here. He was warning him because he was afraid that Black Mask was taking out anyone connected to him, and what had he done? He proved he was every bit the asshole he'd accused him of being.

“How?”

“Same as Detective Kitzky, same weapons used against you most likely. Chain, bats, knife.” The officer shoved his hands into his pockets and avoided looking him in the eyes. “I can't believe you think I'd accuse you of murder.”

Yeah that was pretty stupid, except that...He _had_. Both of them _had_ in the past. He _had_ murdered people and Dick _had_ accused him of murder even before that. God this situation was so fucked up. His arrogance was the reason everything was so complicated. He didn't have to flaunt that he knew the Bat-Clan's real identities, he didn't have to start dating Dick and he never should have.

“I'm not stupid, Dick, I know how all this shit works. Not to mention,” Jason sighed. “what do you think Bullock was doing here? I was nearly killed by these guys and I made it clear that I didn't trust Kitzky. He winds up dead and with me being the uncaring, cruel monster you think I am, it wasn't a hard leap to make that for a moment, no matter how brief, I was a suspect.”

“I didn't know Harvey had come by until you told me how you thought Kitzky had died. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let myself get distracted but I hate it when he does that.”

“Does what?”

“He lies about cause of death when questioning suspects. He insists that it's the perfect technique.” Dick rolled his eyes and shook his head. “He says, when a man knows the way he killed someone and is told it was done differently, he'll give himself away. He'll get mad or confused.”

“Makes sense, but it seems a bit childish.” Jason kicked at the ground beneath his dirty work boot. He needed to get off this subject because he was definitely not on his a-game. He was too raw, too confused. Who the Hell had gotten to those guys? It was Black Mask; it had to be. “I can't believe those guys are gone.”

“Were you close?” Dick asked.

“Played poker a couple of times.” He lied, because he hadn't done shit with either guy, but he still felt like an asshole. If he hadn't named them, they'd still be alive and who the fuck let that information slip? “I thought the point in telling you was that you would safely get that information to Bullock without that weasel getting the names of my guys?”

“JT, it has to go in a report somewhere.” His voice was soft and patient, as if he were talking to an upset child. It irked him, but not enough to comment on. “We can't just look into people and not make note of it. I don't have the particulars and I don't think Detective Bullock has even been informed yet, but I will tell you what I can, when I can.”

Jason shook his head and closed his eyes. Even if it was partially the police's fault, it was also his own. He knew better than to name names and now he'd caused the deaths of two innocent men. He couldn't believe he'd allowed this to happen and what was worse, he still couldn't go after Black Mask yet. Not directly, not after this, not after forgetting to leave his sign. He'd have to scale back. Him or anymore his men wind up dead and it would definitely look bad for his JT Bennet persona. Especially after Kitzky's death.

Fuck! That rat Kitzky had been damned lucky that Matthew and Blake were alive as of the moment he'd gone after the pig. Had he known two of his employees would end up dead, he'd have stretched out his time with the detective for as long as he possibly could.

“I mean it, I'll tell you everything.” Dick repeated.

“Don't worry about it, Officer Grayson.”

“Hey, you don't have to get all formal on me.”

“You dumped me yesterday, remember? How the Hell am I supposed to be around you?” Jason didn't want to do this right now. He wanted to go home and drink himself into a stupor.

“It's not like I stop caring just because I can't handle your coldness.”

“I'm not cold!” Jason snapped, his ire rising to a boiling point faster than even he expected. “I just didn't feel like crying about Roy, who is known for being a piece of shit! The guy's just like my old man! Some junkie with a bad fucking temper and a tendency to put his nose where it don't belong!”

Dick looked a little angry, but again his face softened as he stepped forward and took his hand. “JT...”

“My Dad was the meanest son of bitch you'd ever meet. He was cocky and thought he was better than anyone. He used to shoot up, pick fights, smacked people around. It was my grandpa who ended up raising me after my mom ran away.” It was the established back story for JT Bennet's parents and Alpha had insisted it be as similar to the truth as possible, no matter how painful it might be. “So yeah, you're friend rubbed me the wrong way when he reminded me a of man who...”

“The scars all over your body, you told me about them that night. I,” He looked to Jason with watery eyes as he jumped to the wrong conclusion. He didn't mind of course, because it was going to help sell why he hated Harper so badly. “I had no idea you saw Roy like that...”

Jason dug his own hands into his pockets and nodded. “Yeah. I am sorry if he can't walk again, and I'm sorry you see me the way you do now because of my comments, but I couldn't...I couldn't get passed what I was feeling.”

“Oh, JT.” Dick walked forward and wrapped his arms around him, ignoring how stiff Jason was. “I shouldn't have assumed the worst in you.”

Yeah if only he'd been that forgiving when he'd actually needed him to be nearly seven years ago with Felipe. He was about to shove him back but he felt Dick's lips on his own and his libido took over while his anger melted away. He brought his hand up to the back of Dick's head, his free hand moved down to grab his ass. Their tongues danced hungrily, and Jason found any residual bitterness vanish when Dick pressed the front of his hips against his.

“Should we go back to your place tonight?” Dick asked nervously, his blue eyes looking into his and begging him not to reject him. “I did make a promise, you know?”

This was it, the moment he could break his heart and tear him to pieces as Dick had done to him just yesterday. He pressed his forehead against Dick's working up the courage to rip his heart out but found he just couldn't do it. He let out a huffed breath and slowly nodded his head against his better judgment.

“When are you off work?”

“Six.”

“Meet me at my place. Seven-thirty.” Jason ordered. “I have to go before I can't let you go.”

He didn't give Dick a chance to change his mind as he moved quickly to his truck and got in. He blasted his music and sped off, completely unaware of the semi-concerned look on Dick's face when he heard Megadeth's Symphony of Destruction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I know I have been pumping out the last few chapters pretty quickly, and I promise I will do my best to keep up with this pace, but with work starting back up I can't make any guarantees.   
> I've noticed there have been a few questions about Jason Todd being recognized and why it may not make sense, but I just want to point out that Lois Lane made out with Superman and interviewed him constantly all the while working with Clark Kent on a daily and his only disguise was a pair of glasses...So yeah, a teenage boy who had yet to have gone through puberty dies and shows back up six years later with the body of an adult, a white streak in his hair and the knowledge that he MUST be someone else because they all saw him buried...I think my man's disguise/secret identity is way better protected and far more believable. ;)   
> As always, I hope you guys are really enjoying this because I am having a blast writing it. Any comments, questions or concerns feel free to leave a comment, review or pm me.


	20. Bedfellows

Chapter 20

 

February 14th

1931hrs

 

The past week was absolute crap and he couldn't think straight, couldn't keep his head in the game. All of his focus had been thrown out the window. Roy had been hurt by a vigilante that they had been so sure was gone, he and JT broke up, and then when Bruce revealed why he had been so off? The whole time Timmy had been begging for him and Barbara to confront, B and they'd refused.

Should he have come out here? Should he have made amends with JT or was it because of all the stress that he was under that made him agree to come back? He needed to know before he walked out of the elevator and into the penthouse. He couldn't string JT along like that, especially since he knew the younger man was going through his own shit.

He played with the key card as he bit at his bottom lip. There was something so different about JT, something sexy and calming and aggressive. The way he would bite his neck while his hands roamed over his body, Dick closed his eyes and shook his head. No. He had to look at it from a purely non-sexual stance because as much as he hated to admit it, his libido always won the decision making process.

OK. So all he had to do was think about JT himself. What drew him in? Was it purely sex? He almost laughed at himself. Of course it wasn't. Sex-fiend though he may be, Dick always attached himself to his lovers. He just had to figure out what he liked about JT.

His smile, his eyes, the usual suspects for most people, but JT also had this bad-boy appeal. He was rough, and Earthy and that was definitely not what he went for. He wasn't perfectly groomed, and his hair was always messy on days he was doing physical labor. His walk was...Mmm. Every time he moved he stared at those hips and watched his swagger as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

Wait, that was all sexual again! He shook his head and tried once more. His cussing. Yep, that sounded as stupid internally as it would have aloud, but it was true. He was crass and bold and he never held anything back. He was passionate about his work and he stood up for himself no matter who was trying to put him down.

Despite accusing him of not having any compassion, Dick knew that was another thing he was starting to love about JT. The look on his face when he'd told him that his employees had been killed; there was plenty of compassion in the young man. He cared deeply about the safety of people and truthfully, if Roy hadn't reminded him so much of his father, he had no doubt that JT would have reacted far differently during dinner that night.

JT was also a prime example that just because terrible things happened in your life didn't mean you had to become a monster. He was fighting for his lot in life, no doubt about it, but he did it with eyes wide open and he never flinched. He never hesitated. It didn't matter what the cost was, he always did what he thought was right and Dick definitely loved that about him.

He allowed himself to smile as he finally released the elevator so that it could continue it's journey to the penthouse floor. As soon as he was off the elevator he used the key card, not bothering to knock or even alert JT to his presence.

What he saw made his heart stop and his breath hitch. JT was, well he was gorgeous. He was wearing a fitted suit in black with his shaggy hair slicked back and his face clean shaven. The way his body filled in against the black fabric made Dick uncomfortable in the best of ways. He knew he cleaned up well, but this, this was different. Tonight the suit he was wearing was so much more than the ones he'd worn for meetings or introductions to his family.

“Black on black,” Dick breathed. “Looks good on you.” It was endearing the way JT's cheeks colored softly.

“You look nice, Dick, but I expected better.” He teased as he walked over to him and took Dick's hips into his hands. He leaned forward and bit his bottom lip.

“Ouch.” Dick gasped and then shoved at JT's chest playfully. “You're in a mood tonight.” He chuckled as JT's hands moved down his hips and over his buttocks. “JT!”

“You promised.” JT grinned mischievously as he squeezed his hands firmly and Dick felt himself harden.

“Damn, why are you dressed like that?” Dick nuzzled his face into JT's neck, holding on to him tightly.

“Because only you are going to be naked tonight, Dick.” He growled against his ear. “I'm going to take you, I'm going to fuck you and I'm going to make you mine.” His teeth grazed Dick's neck and he couldn't stop himself from whimpering when JT pulled back. “But first, dinner.”

“Dinner?” Dick tilted his head as he pouted. “What if I want to skip dinner?”

“Can't do it, Babe.” JT shook his head. “I need you at full strength for what I have in mind.”

“Wait, should I have dressed up?” Dick frowned looking down at his own casual attire. He was wearing a pair of new Levis and a white button up shirt and black vest over it. He rubbed at the back of his neck and shook his head. “That's what you meant when you said you expected better.”

To his relief JT's grin didn't disappear. “I like it this way. Helps get me into the mood for what I'm going to do to you tonight.” He grabbed his keys from the counter, releasing Dick as he did so. “Come on, I don't want to lose the reservation.”

“I thought you canceled it?” Dick tilted his head.

JT's face turned a bright red as he tried to shrug his shoulders casually. “Um, I guess, I was hoping you'd change your mind.” He admitted softly.

With a fluttering heart and a bright smile, Dick sauntered over to his boyfriend's side and kissed his cheek affectionately. “Well, it turns out that I was hoping for that, too.”

 

Jason was a fucking genius. Dinner went off without a hitch and now he had done exactly what he had always wanted to do. The one thing that he'd fantasized about since he was fifteen years old. He had Dick tied to his fucking bed, blindfolded and gagged with his own black tie. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever witnessed and because he wasn't taking off his shirt and because he wasn't going to remove Dick's blindfold, his injury would be protected and would go completely unnoticed.

He ran a hand over Dick's thigh and shivered when he heard Dick gasp softly. The sight of his lover, tied down and nervous was driving Jason to further heights of arousal. He skimmed his finger tips up his thigh, passed his hip and up his sensitive right side, watching goosebumps form along his beautiful skin.

Dick had the body of a God. His frame similar to that of a dancer's, like most acrobats. His muscles were chiseled and easily defined, but it was his pelvic muscles that really drove Jason wild. Those deep lines to the inside of his hips that created a V. He couldn't resist worshiping the sign of Dick's strength and grace so he leaned down and dragged his tongue over the right side. Again his lover whimpered so he started to nip and suck at the point that maddened him most. It was no wonder those lines were referred to as Adonis' Belt.

He left a mark and was pleased with himself, his hands slowly kneading and rubbing into the muscles of his lover's torso. Jason was very careful to avoid touching that beautiful cock that was so hard and straining to be touched. He ignored the sight of precum dripping from that slit atop his head. He had to, because if he touched him there, if he touched him now, they'd never last the night.

“Fuck, Dick, if only you could see yourself like this.” Jason purred as he moved his kisses up Dick's body until he found his neck. “I'd keep you like this forever if I didn't think people would come looking for you.”

Another shiver ran through the older, smaller man and Jason found himself petting his lengthy black hair, his mouth working on another mark. Dick had already laid claim on him once before so it was only fair that Jason marked him in return.

He moved his hand from Dick's hair and trailed it all the way back down his body, rubbing gentle circles all around his inner thighs, still not touching where he knew it was wanted most. His lover arched against the restraints, trying to force Jason's hand to collide with his shaft, but it didn't happen. Jason wouldn't allow it.

Not yet.

“Patience, Baby, I'm gonna take care of you, but first, we're going to play.” He smirked darkly. “Now, I'm going to remove your gag. I want you to moan for me, I want you to beg for me. Don't hold back on me, Dick.”

There was a short nod and Jason quickly removed the tie and then caressed his cheek. “You really are beautiful, Dick. Thank you for trusting me.” He whispered and then claimed his mouth in a hungry kiss, the clothing he was wearing pressing into Dick's naked flesh.

“Oh, JT, please, please...” Dick already a bit overloaded. Jason knew he'd never been the bottom in relationship before, let alone having been tied up. Well not when it came to sex. It was a truly beautiful gift that he was giving him and Jason wouldn't betray that.

“Soon, Baby, soon.” He promised calmly, his hands running up and down his body again. “Now you remember your safe-word.”

“Yes.”

“Say it for me, just once so that we both know that the other knows it.”

“Red.” It was a fairly common one taken from the traffic light system that a lot of BDSM groups used, though he doubted Dick knew that. Despite being the perfect type for that kind of world, Dick was too kind, too innocent and too gentle to have ever gotten involved in it.

“Good boy.” Jason praised as he got off the bed, still fully clothed. He walked over to the closet where he had everything he needed for the night stored.

“JT?” Dick asked, probably nervous after he felt his weight disappear from the bed.

“I'm still here, just grabbing what I'll need.” He smiled, carrying over the items to the nightstand beside his bed.

When he had it all within his reach he climbed back onto the bed and straddled Dick's chest. “I want your mouth on me first.” He explained as he started to unzip and unbutton his pants. He pulled himself out, pleased by the sight of his own hardened cock. “You just lie still, and I will bring Dick to you, got it?”

His lover blushed brightly at his words, but he gave his consent with a nervous smile. “OK, JT.”

He pressed the tip of his head to Dick's lips and couldn't stop himself from moaning when Dick kissed it. Jason watched as Dick licked his lips and then shyly tongued his head and he realized he didn't want to stop the smaller man from exploring him. He gritted his teeth and breathed in deeply while his lover kissed and licked at him tentatively.

His control and patience had begun to wear thin when he finally felt and then watched as Dick took his tip into his hot, wet mouth. Without his permission or intent, Jason grabbed a fist full of the other's hair and tugged painfully, forcing his shaft deeper into Dick's mouth.

“Fuck yeah.” Jason breathed.

Where Dick had learned to use his mouth like that was beyond Jason, but he was really happy he'd learned it somewhere. The cop went from shy and nervous to confident and skilled, his mouth sucking and tightening around all of Jason. He rocked his hips as gently as he could, even though he'd really wanted to drive into him as hard and as fast as he could.

“Damn, Dick where'd you learn to do this?”

He didn't answer as he tried to move his head the best he could while being tied down. Jason watched as his hands twitched and he knew Dick wanted to grab him, to hold on to him. Normally he would have released him, but for both their sakes, Dick's hands couldn't be allowed to wander and roam all over his body.

Dick actually pouted when Jason forced himself to pull out of that warm hole. He wanted to thrust right back in seeing those lips so swollen and needy. There was just to much he wanted to do to Dick and if he blew his load in that pretty mouth, he knew it'd be way too long before he was able to finish the night.

“Greedy little cocksucker, aren't you.” He teased affectionately as he cupped Dick's cheek in his hand. “I had no idea you could be so wanton, Officer.”

Again that pretty little blush in Dick's cheeks made Jason ache. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the lubricant. It was the type to warm up upon contact with skin and he felt particularly wicked as he moved down Dick's body until he was between Dick's spread thighs.

He squeezed a generous amount directly on to Dick's in thighs before he set to work, rubbing it in. Jason carefully rubbed the lubricant into his cheeks and around his hole; he focused heavily on that tight space, his fingers gently prodding and poking at him until he was able to gain access.

“J-JT?” He keened as he felt the heat and his hips bucked unconsciously. His chest arched off the bed as well, the warmth of definitely igniting the cop's own desires.

“Relax, Babe, I'm gonna mark you as my own, soon. Just hold on a little longer.” He answered as he poured more of the lubricant into his hands. One hand continued to work and stretch Dick's hole, while the other started massage his testicles. The warmth was building up and once again his lover cried out and keened, bucked against the restraints. “Mmm, fuck! You're so sexy.”

“God JT, just fuck me!” Dick demanded impatiently, his body squirming and beading with sweat.

Jason laughed openly as he felt his own body perspiring beneath all the clothing that he'd insisted on wearing. “You don't call the shots here, Officer, I do.” He stopped massaging and instead grabbed him painfully, his other hand still fingering and stretching him.

“Please, JT,” And Jason smiled down as his lover had learned this game to quickly. Hearing him beg to be fucked would definitely hurry his plans, but as he watched that beautiful face pout, he didn't mind. “Please, fuck me. Please I need to feel you deep inside of me, I need you to just touch me. Please, please, JT.”

He removed his fingers grabbed hold of Dick's hips as he lined himself up with his hole. “For you, Dick,” He pressed his head into his lubricated hole and shivered at the shriek that escaped from his lover. “Anything.”

He steadied himself and then began to thrust in painful strike against Dick's prostate. His lover cried out with each slow impact, his hands trying to pull against the ties. His mouth was set in a painful grimace, but there was the edge of a smile ghosting his lips, too which told Jason all he needed to know about how much he enjoyed the rough treatment.

Pinning his hips to the mattress, Jason increased his speed, knowing there was no way he could slow things down. He could hardly breathe as he felt Dick's inner muscles clamp down around him. He groaned at the friction they were creating as he closed his eyes. He didn't need to see, he just need to feel that warm cavern wrapped around his thick length as he drove deeper and deeper.

Dick was a mess of whimpers, moans and cries as he held onto the headboard, his body still fighting, still arching. He wanted to cling to him and Jason wanted to let him, but he ignored that side of the budding relationship while he pounded into him relentlessly. He moved one hand and started pumping Dick's own shaft, knowing it was the one thing he needed to finally get where he wanted to be.

“Oh God, I'm gonna cum JT, I'm gonna cum!” The smaller warned and as predicted white hot streams splashed against Dick's naked body and as well as his own black suit.

The sight undid him and with a few more sporadic thrusts, JT was howling in ecstasy, his body unleashing all the sexual tension that had built up for the past few weeks. He dropped his weight on top of Dick, light-headed and temporarily sated.

“That was...” Dick breathed, his whole body radiating heat and glowing like the Sun. “Holy shit, you were right. I don't know what rough is.”

Jason rolled his eyes and laughed as he forced himself off Dick. “That still wasn't even as rough as I'd wanted.” He pulled the blindfold off and was struck by the intense cerulean gaze that held him captive. Tears had fallen and had gathered in those eyes. “Are, are you OK, Dick?”

“It was the most intense and amazing thing I've ever done before.” He admitted shyly, his eyes closing against the tears. “I- I love you, JT.”

“I love you, too.” Jason whispered before he could stop himself and immediately he paled. “I- I mean I...”

“Hey, hey you don't have to be a tough guy all the time, you know?” Dick tried to smile at him. “But you don't have to say it again, either. Not until you are ready. I just really wanted you to know where I stand.”

Jason didn't say much after that, but he did untie Dick and let him shower. He changed into his own pajamas before Dick got out. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore what had been said as Dick came out of the shower, a towel haphazardly draped across his hips.

“Can I borrow some clothes for the night?”

He shook his head. “No, I told you already, you stay naked.” He grinned at the look of panic in his lover's eyes. “Come on.” He patted the bed and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “I may not have been able to do everything I wanted to you, but the rules of the evening still apply.”

“You just like feeling in control.” Dick pouted but he still came to sit on the large bed.

“One day, Babe, you're going to realize I am always in control.”

* * *

 

February 15th

0940 hrs

 

Dick blushed as his friend teased him when he returned to the mansion. He hadn't expected them to all be aware that he'd been on a date. After all, he didn't live there and he was sure he didn't tell anyone about his date with JT the night before. It had always been the plan for him to spend the night at his own place and then come by in the morning. So how did they know?

Roy, Barbara and Wally were relentless, demanding details and wanting to know who the lucky guy was.

“Whoa!” Tim exclaimed, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of his older brother. “Was it a fight or something I don't need to know about?”

“What are you talking about?” Dick frowned. “What are any of you talking about? I didn't-

“Dick, you're neck is covered in big ugly hickeys!” Wally finally laughed.

“It's what?” He hadn't paid attention, Hell he hadn't even seen a mirror last night or this morning before he zipped out of the penthouse. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom attached to Roy's room and when he saw the dark bruising wrapped around his throat he thought he'd die! It looked like a damned collar! “That prick!”

The others laughter roared and he just wanted to shut himself in the bathroom and die but he didn't as he walked back into the room. He shook his head in disbelief, his phone in hand as he started furiously texting JT.

Dick: A collar! Really? A collar of hickeys? You know I'm a cop right?

JT: }) I warned you that I'd be marking you as mine.

Dick: When did you even do it? I don't remember you spending that muck time on my neck.

JT: Through out the night while you slept. You seemed to enjoy it just fine.

Dick: I look like a slut.

JT: Yeah, My slut.

Dick: This isn't funny, JT!

“JT?” Wally frowned and at once Dick realized he'd muttered aloud what he'd been texting. “No Dude, not him! I thought you dumped him?”

“No shit, it was less than forty-eight hours ago.” Roy smirked. “You couldn't be away from him for two whole days?”

“This guy must really be something.” Barbara added. “I mean you have never seemed like a bottom to me, but that...” She pointed at his neck. “That says a lot, Dick.”

Tim blushed and shook his head. “I'm going to check on Bruce. I really don't need to be hearing this.” He took off as Roy laughed at the awkward blush forming on Tim's cheeks.

“It's none of your guys' business.” Dick sighed, but these were his best friends he knew that they knew he didn't keep anything from them. If he really didn't want them to know, he wouldn't have been so careless. He was a former Robin and Nightwing, trained by Bruce Wayne. No one got information from him that he didn't want them having.

“Why him, though, seriously.” Wally frowned, clearly upset by the new found information.

Dick took a deep breath. “Because I love him.” He exhaled. “It's been building for a while, but last night? It started so bad, guys. I went to his work to talk to him about some employee deaths and things just spiraled out of control but we talked through it and he just...He makes me feel good.”

Roy tilted his head and then shrugged. “The guy was an ass, but if he makes you happy, I'm all for it, Dick. You deserve a guy who wants to take care of you and he seemed really good with you. Maybe Wally and I should get to know him a little better when I'm up and moving again.”

“I disagree. He's callous and mean. You said so yourself.” Wally shook his head. “He'll hurt you Dick, mark my words.”

“Come on, Wally, don't be like that.” Dick frowned.

“You come on!” He argued as he stood from the chair beside Roy's bed. “He didn't feel even a bit of compassion for Roy when you told him what happened. He practically claimed that he deserved it!”

Dick listened for only a few minutes as his friend bashed the man he'd come to realize he was in love with. His anger, which was usually slow to build, was burning quickly and when he couldn't take it anymore, he just shouted.

“Enough!” Everyone in the room stared at him in surprise. “You know why he didn't feel bad? Because he can't disassociate Roy from his Dad. A man who was a pretty bad junkie that nearly beat him to death when he was fifteen! You should see the scars on his body, Wally! They're everywhere and so yeah, he didn't care for Roy, but he apologized for that, he told me that he hoped Roy got better!”

For several minutes not one of the friends spoke to each other. Dick glared at the floor while Wally sat back down and frowned. Roy and Barbara looked to one another in silent question of how to help their friends, but neither seemed to have an answer.

“Everyone in this room has had a hard life,” Wally reminded. “We all did, but we didn't lose our ability to empathize, Dick. This JT guy did.”

“Wally,” He didn't want his friend to be this upset, especially when he'd been the one to start out on JT's side.

“That's true, but seriously, we have no idea if he had the good role models we did.” Roy pointed out and Dick couldn't have been more grateful. “Not everyone escapes that life unscathed and if this guy is a little less than sympathetic, if that's his worst flaw, then he's lucky.”

Shaking his head Wally sighed. “I need to get back to Keystone. I'll call you later. Good luck with your recovery, Roy. Let me know if you need anything.” And before Dick, Roy or even Barbara could protest, Wally as gone in well, a flash.

“Don't worry, Dick, he'll come around.” Barbara offered.

“I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

February 18th

00:00 hrs

 

Harvey Bullock stood in the middle of a homicide scene, several people moving all about the small apartment. It was a cut and dry investigation for once; the boyfriend had killed the girlfriend and her lover when he found them in bed together. He tried to fight off the call of sleep but between the Kitzky case and The Red Hood cases, he just wasn't clocking enough shut eye.

He had started to sway from exhaustion when he felt his phone vibrating. He pulled it out and was surprised that the number was blocked. “This is Detective Bullock.”

“Detective,” The voice was being altered by some kind of sound modifier. “This is The Red Hood. Meet me alone in the back alley. Five minutes.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bullock demanded but by then the call had disconnected. He looked all around and wondered if the vigilante was already there. No one appeared to be putting their phones away, if anything they'd been busy gathering evidence or snapping photos of thing they couldn't be taken with them.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing as some serial killing vigilante demanded. After he was sure no one was watching him, he walked into the alley and waited as patiently as an impatient man could. He didn't deny that he was scared. The Hood had killed at least one cop before and while Harvey wasn't near as crooked as most of the GCPD, he'd made some poor decisions in the past as well.

“Relax, Detective, you're not on my list.” He looked up to see the man standing atop a fire escape.

He couldn't be sure of his height, but he did look big and brawny. The man wore a black and white motorcycle jacket with a red hoodie pulled over a shiny red helmet. Two guns were holstered to his thighs which were clad in faded black jeans. The man was also wearing motocross boots and something close to shin guards from some sport that Harvey couldn't place.

“What do you want from me, Hood?”

“First off, I wanted to give you this.” He dropped down a cardboard sign. “Forgot to leave that with Kitzky.”

He picked up the sign from the street and read over the words. “When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers.” He looked up at the masked man. “Isn't that a Bible quote?”

“You sound surprised, Detective Bullock.” He laughed and thanks to the modifier it sounded sinister.

“You're a murderer, Red Hood.”

“No, see that's where you are wrong.” He started coming down the steps. “And I think you know it. You're rookie partner, Detective Kitzky, he killed those men on orders from Black Mask. He was a rabid dog and he was put down.”

“Yeah but who made you judge jury and executioner?” Bullock sneered. “What happens if you make a mistake. Kill the wrong guy?”

“I don't make mistakes, Detective.” He got to the street and walked up to Harvey, their height similar, but the masked man's build was definitely much bigger. “I don't take out thieves or prostitutes. I don't even go after dealers until they've committed one of the big three.”

“And what are the big three?”

“Sexual Assault of any kind, Murder, or forcing kids onto drugs or into selling drugs.”

“You expect me to believe you're all about protecting the little children?”

“Who else should I protect? The men and women of this city who fail to protect them every single day? The ones who make deals with criminals overlords and make money off their despair and misery?” He shrugged.

“What do you want from me?” Bullock frowned, looking for a way to get out of this should it all go South. “You've never made contact with the police before? Why now?”

“Batman has Gordon, I want Bullock.” He answered.

“Come again?”

“We all know it.” The Red Hood shrugged. “Gordon and Batman work together. I've decided I want my own detective in my pocket. One who is as sick and tired of the fucking scum of this city getting away with murder as much as I am. I want a man who knows that it's better for men like Two-Face, Penguin, and Ryan Murphy to be executed before a Judge's pockets are so heavily lined with blood money that they simply walk out of court free men.”

“What exactly do you want me to do for you?” Harvey asked, his curiosity peaked.

“When I bring you evidence, I want it processed and I want the results before the department. Same deal Gordon has with Batman. When you hear about one of the big three's you alert me.”

“And what's in this for me?” Harvey demanded. “I ain't taking any bribes. Cash isn't enough to tarnish my reputation.”

“Learned your lesson from the last go around, Detective Bullock?” The Hood chuckled. “Yeah I know about your past indiscretions. Why do you think I chose you?”

“You don't take down bad guys like the other three vigilantes, Hood. You murder them.”

“Murder's such an ugly fucking word. I prefer execute.” Harvey was about to walk away when the man raised his hand as if to tell him to stop. “I know cash isn't what you want or need, Bullock.”

“So then what do you plan to offer me?” He snickered.

“Who do you want most in this whole wretched city? Who do you want taken down, taken out?” Harvey's eyes widened in shock as he realized what he was being offered. “He killed them Harvey; he tortured them and then he ate them alive! He should have died! He wanted to act like fucking animal they should have put him down like one! The freak is a sick, disgusting piece of shit that doesn't deserve to take even one more breath.”

His anger boiled over and he found himself nodding, agreeing with this man's words. Everyone had just assumed that the pretty woman and her daughter had simply been a hard crime scene to work. The other detectives insisted it was the worst thing he'd probably seen so far and they'd all given him a wide berth during that time.

What they hadn't known, was that Harvey had started dating the mother only a couple of months prior. He'd never been open about the women he dated and he'd often encouraged the rumors that he only slept with prostitutes because in Gotham, a good cop's family was never safe. Even Jim didn't know about their relationship, just like he'd never known that Harvey had fallen so in love with Katie Hansen and her daughter Lily, that he'd purchased a ring for her.

“I will give him to you.” The man swore, his voice still mechanized but even through it he could hear the raw emotion bleeding through. “I will cut his fucking head off and serve it to you on a silver platter if that's what you want.

“Come on, Detective. Help me get rid of the inhuman filth of this city before someone else's fiance and future step-daughter are taken away.”

His hands trembled but there was only one thing Harvey could say, so he looked up at the vigilante. “I'm in.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I hope you all liked this chapter. I am still not so good with sex scenes, but hopefully they aren't too terrible. If they are bad though let me know and I'll just start implying them, lol. This chapter didn't include near as much as I wanted but I feel like it's been too long since I last posted, so yeah. Here you go!


	21. Revelations

Chapter 21

 

February 18th

1630 hrs

 

Alfred Pennyworth watched as Dick Grayson and JT Bennet walked into the guest room that Roy Harper was recovering in. Master Grayson was dressed in his police uniform, a ring of hickey's peaking over the top of his shirt collar. His hair was slicked back in an effort to keep his inappropriate haircut from being to easily noticed by his co-workers. He really needed to get it cut before they docked his pay for it.

JT was wearing haggard work jeans, mud crusted steel toes and a thick gray hoodie that had dried cement splattered all over it. His black and white hair looked oily and dirty. Definitely a productive day on the job site.

He brought in a tray of medicine for Roy as well as a sandwich and some juice. The boy needed to eat, but he'd been stubborn and Alfred couldn't help but worry that the boy would slip. He prayed for the man because there wasn't much else he could personally do for him. Not beyond what he'd already done.

“We gotta talk him into it.” Tim frowned. “You heard him at dinner last night, he absolutely refuses to have it removed.”

“What's going on?” JT asked as he and Dick settled into a couple of seats beside Tim and Barbara.

“Bruce just found out he has a tumor.” Dick sighed sadly and Alfred watched as JT immediately pulled the smaller man into his arms and kissed his temple; it was a little awkward over the arms of their chairs, but Dick didn't seem to mind. The boy had always craved physical affection. “It's not life-threatening, not yet.”

“And it wasn't just found.” Tim glared pointedly at himself. “He and Alfred were keeping it a secret for who knows how long.”

“Hey,” Barbara shook her head. “Bruce made his decision, you can't put that on Alfred.”

“So what's the big guy afraid of?” JT tilted his head and Alfred found himself paying very close attention to the young man as he set out the tray over Roy's lap. “I mean is the surgery dangerous? Is it terminal?”

Alfred didn't leave as he listened to Tim go over the specifics with JT. He knew he was being a bit obvious in his study of Mr. Bennet, but he didn't get a lot of opportunities to observe him. So he took full advantage as he watched something in his eyes change the more Tim spoke of the surgery. It started with concern, then it faded into something closer to fear, then irritation and finally something that looked like stubborn determination.

JT had called him 'Big Guy' and more and more he knew JT Bennet had to be The Red Hood. The mannerisms, the snark, the cursing was almost a perfect match. The body movements were slightly off, but it was only enough for him to believe he was faking it. True, all of this could be shrugged off, especially after Bruce had already had Ms. Gordon research him and his company. That's why he hadn't brought it up to anyone yet.

Mr. Bennet also didn't seem at all surprised by the news of the tumor and somehow The Red Hood had known. That was obvious by his demanding that Batman take care of himself when he sent him home in the batmobile. He hid the lack of shock by immediately offering comfort to Dick, but Alfred had noticed because he was looking.

“A fucking surgery. That's it?” JT glowered. “He needs one fucking surgery, a bit of rest and then he can go back to ruling the world as the billionaire philanthropist that he is? Why is he saying no?”

“Pride.” Tim insisted.

“Vanity.” Alfred objected.

“Same dif.” Roy shrugged.

“Vanity and pride are different things though they are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.” JT lectured.

He nearly gasped aloud, but schooled his expression just in time. His heart raced as he thought of the possibilities of what he'd just discovered, but was it truly a discovery? Alfred had educated Jason at home. Public school had proven to be a terrible idea after only a month and half of attendance, not if they wanted to get him caught up and properly educated.

One of Jason's favorite books was Pride and Prejudice and once he'd read it, the boy had quoted it constantly. No one had ever seemed to noticed just as they hadn't moments ago. Roy rolled his eyes, unaware that it was a quote from the book rather than a lecture. Dick and Tim simply nodded their agreement and Barbara was too focused on Roy to have caught on.

It was such an obscure quote, one that passing readers would never have recognized, but Alfred remembered when Jason had read the passage. The boy had been struck by the notion and asked him if it were true. When he confirmed it, the young man had insisted that he would be a proud man, but never a vain one.

“Well I think Bruce definitely practices both.” Dick leaned closer to JT and sighed. “We have to figure out how to get him to do the surgery.”

“I'll talk to him.” Everyone stared at JT the moment he spoke. Could this be the confirmation he needed that he was more than just The Red Hood? “I will. I think I can reason with him. Appeal to his vanity while striking at his pride in a way you're all too close to have the stomach to do.”

“What can you possibly say that we haven't?” Tim doubted.

“Yeah, no offense, but it's not like you know Bruce.” Barbara added. Alfred had caught early on that the young lady had not approved of JT. Did she perhaps recognize it to. Did she suspect, and if so, what exactly did she suspect?

“Look, I don't know Bruce Wayne personally and I haven't spent a lot of time with him but I can tell you this,” JT said he stood from his seat. “I'm a damned good negotiator and I know how to get my way.”

Dick looked up at him gratefully and even Roy seemed impressed but Alfred frowned as a memory came roaring to life. It happened when he looked from JT to the injured red head. It had been a year before Jason's death, when the boy had turned fourteen and was just kicked off the Titan's team by Roy and Dick.

_“I hate him, Alfred!” Jason had snarled. “Why does Dick love him so much?”_

_“Love seems a bit strong of word, Master Jason.” Alfred chuckled. “Roy Harper is one of his dearest friends but I hardly think your brother is in love with him.”_

_“Dick is not my brother.” Jason sneered disgustedly. “We are not blood and that's never, ever going to change.”_

_Alfred stared in shock at the venom the boy had spat until he saw just how red the young man's face was. Jason couldn't possibly, but then, it did make some sense. The boy idolized Dick, even though they had next to nothing in common. He wanted to do everything he could and while Alfred had seen it as a form of sibling rivalry, he now wondered if this was something else._

_“They kicked me out of the Titans!” Jason's teal eyes burned with unshed tears as he rested his chin on his folded arms over the counter. “Fucking Arsenal...” He hissed. “He called me an outsider and a wanna be! Said I didn't have it in me to be a hero, that I was just a....”_

_He frowned and walked over to the young teenager on the verge of tears and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Master Todd,”_

_“Just a criminal!” Jason growled as three unchecked, angry tears fell down his cheeks. “And Dick backed_ him _up! He took his side and didn't even try to defend me!”_

_“Jason look at me.” Alfred rarely used first names with the boy, but he need to make sure he had the boy's attention and it worked. “You are not a criminal, do you understand? You may not have had the same opportunities that Dick did in the beginning, but Master Bruce never would have taken you in if he didn't trust in you.”_

_Those sad teal eyes blinked and several more tears fell as his lower lip trembled. From rage or from sadness, even Alfred couldn't tell. Perhaps both. “He doesn't trust me, Alfred. None of them do. I...” He sniffled and ignored the tears that fell before he forced himself to look back at his eyes. “I over heard Bruce asking Barbara what she thought of me.”_

_Alfred knew all about that conversation and he knew how badly it went. Ms. Gordon did not think that Jason should be crime-fighting, that he was only one bad decision away from being a criminal himself. Now that he was kicked off the Titans, it was only confirming Bruce's fears and it was feeding into Jason's lack of self-worth._

_“Jason Todd, I don't care what the others think of you.” Alfred spoke purposefully and with absolute sincerity. “You are a hero and you have it in you to be the greatest hero of them all. Do you know why?” The boy shook his head. “Because you've walked both paths. You've seen the worst of Gotham and you survived it! You weren't sheltered or protected and you weren't always aware of your place as a guardian to those on our city's streets. You had to fight to become a hero, you had to turn away from temptation._

_“Your sheer will and desire to be better than all that you were raised to be is why Dick, Roy and even Master Bruce will never compare to you.” Alfred squeezed his shoulder and wasn't at all surprised when the boy moved from the stool and into his arms, hugging him tightly. “You are hero, Master Todd, you are my hero.”_

Alfred barely shook off the memory as Dick happily led JT out of Roy's room and down the hall. Barbara rolled her eyes while Tim simply looked hopeful that the mysterious young man could do the impossible.

“I don't like him. He's way too familiar with everything.” Barbara said softly as he she took Roy's hand. “Most people are not comfortable with us, any of us. I mean, not when we're together or in Wayne Manor. This just feels.”

“Look I know I was the first to hate the guy, but you all need to pay more attention.” Roy piped up as he squeezed Barbara's hand back.

“To what, Master Harper?” He asked, curious to know what he'd caught that no one else had.

“How happy Dick is.” Roy shrugged self-consciously. “Look, I know that this kid is kind of young and damaged and he's an arrogant fucker, but doesn't he remind you of someone?”

“Bruce.” Tim smiled softly. “He cusses to much, but yeah. He is a lot like Bruce.”

“Dick always smiles, always. We know that, but the smile that's been plastered to his face since before I got hurt and after they made up?” Roy shrugged. “It's a new smile and it's more radiant and hopeful than anything I've personally witnessed.”

“Only one other time in his life he smiled like that.” Tim nodded. “If you look at all the photos of him with his mother and father, it's the same smile.”

Barbara looked hurt by Tim and Roy's comments but she sighed. “I guess, I guess I could just be jealous.” She admitted.

“Fuck that's exactly what my problem with him was.” Roy laughed. “Don't get me wrong Barbie, but my first crush was Dick. Not like I wanted to bone him or anything, but he's been my best friend and I have always been jealous of anyone not me or Wally.”

Alfred felt his heart clench as he listened to the conversation and he needed to leave the room. He excused himself politely and wandered to Jason's bedroom. What was he going to do? How would this effect all of them if he was right? Bad enough that JT Bennet was The Red Hood, but if he was also Jason Todd?

Dick would be hurt to find out he was the murderous vigilante, no doubt about it. It would break his heart to know that he loved someone so cold and so cruel. To have fallen in love with a man who could kill without remorse? It would make Dick wonder what was wrong with him. But that he would survive.

To know that he was also Jason Todd? That would be an entirely different matter.

The night he'd just remembered, he'd known why Jason hated being called Dick's brother. The teenager believed himself in love with Dick, so being called his brother was a mortifying and disgusting thought for him.

On the other hand, Dick had always seen Jason as a pesky little brother. One that he didn't like right away, one that he wasn't very kind or accepting of because he'd stolen his place at Bruce's side. However, Dick had eventually started training Jason and he'd been completely oblivious to the crush that must have been growing.

For Dick to find out that the man he loved was not only a serial killing vigilante, but also the little brother he'd regretted losing? It would destroy him. It would make him ill and it would most assuredly break him.

Then of course there were the others to think about. Barbara might not be surprised and Roy would hate the man for disabling him, but what would Tim think? He'd always seen Jason Todd as a kind of tragic hero?

And then there was Master Bruce!

Oh what would the boy he'd come to love like a son do to himself when he realized that Jason Todd was not only alive but had become the very kind of man that Bruce always feared he would without his influence? That he had become the man he hated most?

Most people would think it was the Joker that Batman hated the most and that was true. However, since the rise of The Red Hood, he'd seen the hatred and horror in Bruce's eyes when he returned home from patrols. Especially the ones where he'd run into the man.

This man was like The League of Assassins. He had stormed into Gotham and started doing the very things he'd probably always wanted to do himself but had stopped himself from doing. Bruce had always maintained a no kill rule. Alfred wholeheartedly approved, because there had to be a line that couldn't be crossed. If there wasn't? Well, then he'd be no different than them.

He sat on the old bed and shook his head as he stared at the book shelf. What was he going to do? How could he not tell them his suspicions? How could he tell them his suspicions? One way or another he was going to betray his family and if he did tell them what he suspected, he would hurt every single one of them and deep down, that thought was breaking him apart, too.

* * *

Jason walked into the bedroom of Bruce Wayne with Dick by his side. He couldn't recall ever being so angry or disgusted with his mentor. How this idiot could ignore a fucking brain tumor, a semi-harmless one that could be so easily dealt with was beyond him. The streets were safer thanks to him, Joker was still stuck in New Arkham, so why wasn't he getting this fixed?

“Dick?” Bruce frowned as he glared at the two of them. “What are you doing in here?”

“He's escorting me to your room, Bruce.”

“And why is he doing that, JT?” Bruce glowered from his bed. It was somewhat impressive that he could appear intimidating even while lying down in a giant, comfy bed.

“Well he doesn't know it yet, but he brought me here so I could blackmail you into getting the fucking tumor cut out of your head before it becomes something that will put you six feet under.” Jason snapped.

“JT!” Dick frowned.

“No I'm serious.” Jason stepped toward the bed, his eyes focusing on the man who had taken him off the streets. The man who had tried to make him something other than another dead beat criminal who'd die young from drugs, AIDS, or a knife to the gut. “You have no idea what you are doing to the people who love you, the people who will have to bury you! Forget your family, imagine what your death will do to this city!”

For all the truth of his words, Bruce rolled his eyes. Actually rolled his fucking eyes at him. Jason nearly saw red, but thankfully clamped down his temper before walked over and decked the conceded prick.

“I didn't say I wouldn't have the tumor removed, Mr. Bennet, I said I couldn't have it removed right now. Not until the project I'm working on is completed.” The older man explained. “Now I don't know what my boys have been telling you, but I am not a fool and I have no intention of ignoring the tumor.”

He knew exactly what project he was referring to. He didn't want to be side-lined until he'd discovered who was under the red hood, but that wasn't going to happen. Not for a long time. Well, not if he had any say in it. And he did. So fuck that.

“Mr. Wayne, Bruce, whatever the fuck you want to be called by me at this point,” Jason growled. “Let me make it clear to you. If you don't get the tumor removed immediately, I will not only pull out of the Burrows Reformation Project, but I'll personally leak to the entire city what my company is including on all those dark alleys. I will make sure they know what they are, what they look like and how they can be dismantled.”

Bruce's jaw actually dropped as his eyes widened. “You wouldn't dare.” He tried to recover quickly from the input overload, but it was obvious that he didn't know what else to say. The only thing he could do was challenge him. “You're company would lose millions if it didn't go under out right.”

“Mr. Wayne, did anyone tell you how I inherited the company?” Jason asked ignoring the angry tugging from Dick as he tried to drag him out of the bedroom. That got both men's attention. “My Grandfather died and I inherited it, but I never said how he died.”

“Let me guess, cancer?” Bruce didn't mean to sound so cold, it was evident by the immediate regret that showed in his face.

“Yes, of the skin.” Jason smirked. “He kept putting it off, and putting it off because it was just a simple scrape, a biopsy. Who cared right? If it was cancerous they'd just cut it out. He had too much work to do, too many projects that he wanted to see taken care of before he took the time off. The melanoma metastasized into his brain and that was that.

“So go ahead, keep ignoring a tumor that's already in your fucking brain, but admit why you are doing it! Admit that you're a fucking coward who wants to put your entire family through nothing but pain because you're too selfish to take care of yourself properly!”

He knew he had Bruce where he wanted him when the man looked to Dick, his steely blue eyes appearing pained and guilty. Dick's fearful expression only helped to drive his point home and he knew, just knew that Bruce was going to give in. He just needed to push a little farther.

“I don't care what happens to my company, Mr. Wayne. I'd rather the whole fucking thing collapse and know that I did all I could to force the great and powerful Bruce Wayne to bend to the will of his sons than stand by and watch Dick and Timmy go through the pain I had to go through because no one forced my grandfather to take care of himself.”

“You'd do that for me?” Dick asked in awe, his own pretty blue eyes watering.

“I'd do it for all of you.” Jason admitted softly, and he couldn't help the pain that rippled through him at the thought of Bruce Wayne dying when he didn't have to. “Please, Bruce, please just get this taken care of. Trust the men and women who support you to take care of your domain.”

Jason could feel Dick holding his breath, his eyes focused on their father hopefully. Neither spoke any further and neither blinked as they waited. Bruce stared down at his hands and Jason almost feared that his stubbornness would win out.

“I'll schedule the surgery and any other required treatments immediately.” Bruce all but whispered.

Dick started to cry and ran forward to hug their father. Jason only watched, but at least all the tension and stress was released from his body. As the two men hugged, he forced himself to walk out of the room. He couldn't hold back his tears and he couldn't let them be seen or they'd know something was up. So under the pretense of giving them privacy he left the room and ran instinctively to the one place he'd never intended to go to again. 

* * *

 

Jason slammed into his old room with such force the door banged off the wall and almost hit him. He turned and closed it before leaning against the door and dropping to the floor, tears falling heavily down his cheeks. He pulled his knees up to his constricting chest and rested his head against his folded arms.

It had been killing him inside. Watching Bruce stumble, seeing him nearly fall or being taken out by men who wouldn't think twice about proving just how mortal the bat was. He'd been playing it tough, focusing only on the pain that Bruce had caused him. The distrust that had grown from the moment that Filipe had died. He'd focused on the fact that Batman hadn't avenged him, hadn't done anything but put the fucking Clown Prince of Crime in a body cast rather than a coffin to match his own.

After seeing Dick hugging their father, his heart broke, because even if he did someday reveal himself to be alive, he could never have that with Bruce. Never did to begin with. All they had were arguments and lectures about his tunnel vision, his sporadic behavior or his violent temper. Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne didn't fucking hug it out, even when one of their lives were on the line.

“JT?” His heart stopped as his head shot up and saw Alfred sitting on his bed, tears running down the old man's cheeks. He knew his expression matched the one of shock and horror on the old man's face, because seriously? How the fuck had he not noticed him?

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't speak as he stared at the old butler and wondered how the Hell he was going to salvage any of this situation. This couldn't be it! He had Bruce on the ropes, Dick was finally in his bed, he had the Black Mask in his sights, Bullock had agreed to work with him and he was going after Killer Croc and The Joker over the next few weeks.

“What's happened Master Bennet?” Alfred asked calmly.

“Bruce is having the tumor removed.” He didn't know if he should run, if he should stand. So he stayed perfectly still.

“No, I meant,” He paused and then smiled. “Wait, you talked him into the surgery?”

“I blackmailed him.” He nodded and he couldn't help but be embarrassed by the way his hands trembled because seriously, what was going on? Did the old man know? “And I guilted him with some bullshit story.”

“Jason?” Alfred asked and he knew what the question was, now knew that he'd been caught by the fucking butler of all people. He wanted him to confirm what the old man must have suspected, but how? He'd been so damned careful, hadn't he?

“Please, Alfred...” Jason shook his head.

“Just tell me what happened to you. Please.”

How could he deny him? How could he ignore his questions? How was he going to lie to him? This man who had loved him above all others? Maybe even more than Bruce. He knew Bruce cared him, but in the end, it was only Alfred who'd had his back.

“Tell me how you came to be this man, this Red Hood?”

He could count on both hands how many times he'd ever been so scared, so vulnerable. The times he'd been raped on the streets, the times he'd been beaten by his father, the evening Felipe died and he'd waited to be asked for his side of the story, the Joker breaking his body before blowing it to Hell, finding out Bruce Wayne had a damned brain tumor. Those had all been the worst moments of his life and now he could add Alfred fucking Pennyworth discovering he was a homicidal maniac and blowing his cover.

His instinct was to dive out the window, disappear and never return, but instead he felt overwhelming grief and pain fogging up his head. He was paralyzed from the neck down, completely unable to run away from the man staring at him in an odd mixture of reverence and disappointment.

“How are you alive, Jason?”

“The Lazarus Pit.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“So you were trained by The League of Assassins?” He could only nod. “Why didn't you come home to us, Jason?”

He found himself on his feet as he shook his head, the agony that question caused forcing him to move. There were memories crashing all around him. “Not a fucking chance, Alfred. I'm not going back there.” But he was, because he could taste the coppery blood in his mouth and he could smell the burning flesh and the dust. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to ignore the phantom pains of the crow bar hitting his body again and again.

“Master Todd, you must tell me why you didn't come home.”

Felipe's shocked brown eyes flashed through his head, followed by how frightened they were when he fell backward through the window. Jason stared at his hands and then ran them through his dirty, greasy hair. “How could I?” He laughed, on the verge of hysterics as he tried to figure out how he'd ended up in this room with the only man who still seemed to know him as if he'd never left. “After what I'd done?” He wiped at his tears angrily.

“What did you do Master Todd?” Alfred asked as he stood from the bed.

“It doesn't fucking matter.” Jason shrugged and he took two deep breaths, all of his emotions pushed down. “What does matter is what you plan to do next.”

Alfred looked betrayed as he looked him in the eyes. “You're threatening me?”

He gritted his teeth as he grabbed the side of his head, tugging at his hair. “No. No of course not. I couldn't threaten you. It would never work.” He steeled his voice as he prepared to do what had to be done. “I'd never threaten you because you wouldn't care. Your family on the other hand...”

“Master Todd, don't do this.” Alfred pleaded.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do? Ask you to keep this from them? From your precious fucking family? From that fucking replacement and the stupid crippled bitch who never trusted me to begin with?” He demanded angrily. “Why would you protect me from them?”

“I never said I would.” Alfred sighed. “But you haven't asked yet, either.”

Jason's eyes widened as he stared at Alfred, more tears threatening to fall as he felt himself shiver again. He shook his head as he tried to get rid of the weakness eating at him. There was no way the butler wouldn't turn him in. He wasn't his family. He was their family.

There was so much he felt in that moment. Too much. His jealousy over Dick and Tim's relationship with Bruce, the fear of Bruce dying, the shock of being caught by the one man he didn't have the heart to threaten or kill, the pain of remembering things he avoided at all costs. He had to find a way to get control, but he was too angry, too scared and too hurt.

“Master Todd...

“It's Jason!” He growled, hating the formality, hating the distance it created. As if he was just some stranger and not a boy he'd helped to raise for...He dropped his hands and shook his head. For what, Jason? Three years? Three whole fucking years before they thought him dead? “My name is Jason, not Master Todd. Do not call me that again.”

“Alright then, Jason. But, please,calm down. If you yell too much louder you will attract attention to yourself.” Alfred warned kindly, patiently.

“Wouldn't that make it easier for you, though? No feelings of betrayal if I'm the one that fucks it up, right? If you'd even feel guilty turning me in.” He was so angry at the flow of tears that continued to fall.

“Just answer a few of my questions, that's all I ask. Please?” And the old man's pleading definitely worked because Jason found himself agreeing to the request. At the very least it would give him time to think. “Do you plan to hurt anyone in this house?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Why did you hurt Roy?” Alfred asked.

“Lost my fucking temper.” He grumbled. “I thought he deserved it at the time for being a complete ass-hat.”

“And now?”

“I might feel a little shitty since he could get addicted to the pain killers and fall off the wagon.” He shrugged, hoping and God, even praying that Alfred would keep these questions easy.

“But you don't feel bad about the damage you did?”

“Honestly?” He smirked. “Only a little bit.”

“Why didn't you come home?” He tried again and Jason shook his head. “Please, Jason, I need to know.”

Apparently he could deny him this question because as the images of Felipe falling to his death collided with the memories of the beating he took from the Joker, he shook his head again. “Not happening, Old Man. Not yet. Not yet.”

“Fine, I will let it slide for now.” Alfred sounded more and more in control which angered Jason because he knew he was losing any grip he'd started with. “Why did you come back now?”

“Bruce's tumor.” He shrugged. “I've been angling to get back to Gotham for the past few years but I wanted to make sure I was ready.

“When we found out about the tumor, Ra's Al Ghul's advisers told him to take out Gotham once and for all. They wanted him to send everyone in. I informed him that he'd failed on a full assault every time prior and that this time would be no different. That even the scum of the Earth would come together along with everyone B knew to help stop them.

“So I came up with a plan and he liked it so much he sent me in. I worked with a couple others to set up my new identity and everything required to make it work. ”

“Is there something you want to ask me, Jason?” Alfred crossed his arms expectantly.

Jason nodded. “What will it take for you to keep my secrets?”

“Ask me and find out.”

“Alfred, will you keep my secrets?” Jason frowned. He hated, hated being in this position, so weak and incapable of protecting himself. He had no choice but to hope Alfred would comply because they both knew he wasn't going to hurt him.

“I am disappointed in you, Master Todd. I am hurt by the life you are choosing to live and I do not approve of what you are doing in the slightest. You were supposed to be a hero, Jason.” Alfred informed him matter of factually. “But, I also do not know how I can possibly tell them about you when I know that it will hurt them so badly.

“So for the time being and under the condition that you never, ever lay a hand on anyone in this household, Master Bennet, you're secret is safe with me.”

* * *

 

Alfred held Jason Peter Todd in his arms as they hugged, actually hugged. This boy he'd thought dead, this boy he'd believed he would never,ever see again. He trembled in his arms, still fighting off whatever emotions had chased him to this room to begin with, but Alfred didn't mind for the moment. Instead he was grateful for the opportunity to see him alive and well.

“I can't keep this from them forever, Jason.” He whispered into the young man's ear. “You do know that don't you?”

“Way to a ruin a moment, Old Man.” Jason rolled his eyes, but Alfred could hear the warmth and the humor in his voice as he pulled out of his embrace. His teal eyes dropped to the floor sadly before they flicked back up at him. “I know, OK? Fuck, just, just do it for Dick and Bruce's sake. Not until Bruce is better at least, Alfred. Please?”

“I already agreed to keep your secrets, I just want you to promise me you will think about this very carefully. What you are doing to Master Grayson in particular.” Alfred sighed because he didn't want to see either of these boys hurt in such a way and yet he couldn't see it going any other way. “He may never forgive you for this, you know?”

“I know, I know.” He was getting angry again as he stepped backward. “It's...I'll deal with it alright?” He glared at the floor if only to prevent himself from glaring at him. “Fuck.” He cursed and stared down at his shoes. “I have to go. I can't let Dick see me like this.”

Before Alfred could tell him to stay, the boy was already sliding out his window and taking off. He knew that Jason knew how to get in and out of the building when he was a teenager, but he was surprised that after six years he'd retained those memories. Then again, despite what Tim had been taught of the second Boy Wonder, Jason was a very adept at all things breaking and entering.

He heaved a heavy sigh as he sat back down on the bed, his mind still absorbing the shock of what had just happened. Jason Todd was alive. Truly alive! So who had they buried? What had happened to him? How did the League of Assassins even get his body to begin with? There were just so many unanswered questions and it frightened him that he couldn't help Jason or tell Master Bruce or the boys.

There was so much to think about. The betrayal they would all feel, the guilt that Bruce would most definitely feel that he hadn't know Jason was alive. Their anger that Alfred knew and hadn't told them. The countless lives that might be placed upon his own conscience! What was he going to do? How was he going to keep this from them?

And yet, Alfred knew that Jason was right. If he told Bruce, if he even hinted that JT Bennet was The Red Hood, he'd put off the treatments. He'd get so caught up in trying to lock Bennet away that he'd let his health deteriorate past the point of no return. Good Lord, if he told him it was Jason Todd back from the dead? All that time would be spent trying to put him away, but also trying to swim through a sea of guilt as he investigated every possible scenario that he'd missed that allowed him to return from the grave.

Tim and Dick were simply not capable of keeping secrets from Bruce and Barbara had never really trusted Jason to begin with. Obviously he was just going to have to carry this burden on his shoulders until either Jason finished his mission or until Bruce was able to wear the cowl again.

One thing that eased his mind and even his conscience was that Jason had no intention of harming anyone unless it couldn't be avoided. He'd saved Tim from the Joker and Harley Quinn, he'd prevented the Joker from killing Dick on the roof, he'd gotten Bruce safely home to them when he'd passed out. More than once now he'd proven that he was not actually their enemy.

While he didn't approve of The Hood's methods he couldn't deny that some of the most dangerous men in Gotham were no longer a threat to his family. Men who had severely hurt everyone of them in the past. Men like Two-Face who'd nearly killed Dick at the tender age of nine.

Yes. He had made the right decision. It wouldn't be easy and it wasn't something he was looking forward to, but it was necessary. He stood from the bed and nodded his head to himself as he walked out of Jason Todd's old room and headed downstairs.

“Hey, Alfred, have you seen JT anywhere?” Dick asked, his blue eyes alight with happiness and excitement. “I need to thank him, we all do.”

“Why is that Master Grayson?”

“He did it, Alfred!” Dick pulled him into a crushing hug and laughed. “He talked Bruce into the surgery and the treatments.”

“But how?” Alfred asked as he feigned shock and wonder.

“He blackmailed him! Can you believe it? So where is he?”

Alfred frowned as he looked at the young man, hating himself already as he was about to tell his first lie to protect Jason Todd. “I'm afraid he received a phone call while you and Bruce were speaking, Master Grayson. He left and asked that you call him tomorrow when your shift ends.”

“Yeah, he probably has a lot of work to do.” Dick nodded a little dejectedly but he smiled again. “Let's go tell the others!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so there were a lot of reveals and then the obvious big one. From the beginning of this story I always knew that Alfred would be one of two people to almost immediately figure it out. The second one I am still working on. I know some people will be conflicted and feal that Alfred would never keep this kind of a secret, but when you consider that he believes Bruce's life would be endangered as well as Jason's, I think it's reasonable that he would. So yeah, please don't be upset or angry. Keep reading! Truly, I hope you all enjoy this chapter because it's been scaring me to post it, lol.


	22. I Wanted To Go Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's late and even sorrier that it wasn't as long as I had planned. Please forgive me. I hope you like it, this one was a little tough to write but we're going to swing into action in the next chapter! Promise.

Chapter 22

 

February 28th

14:30 hrs

 

Dick's fingers were tightly interlaced with JT's as they sat in the large waiting room. Even though Bruce had decided to do the surgery it had still taken him a week to schedule. He suspected that Bruce had put it off until Tim's cast came off a few days ago. He supposed it was understandable, because with him down that would have been six to seven nights of Nightwing patrolling alone and there was no way Bruce would be all right with that.

So now they sat together, he and JT were seated on a uncomfortable sofa, Tim and Connor Kent were side by side on a large overstuffed couch with Alfred sitting stiffly on the other end. Barbara was in her wheel chair while she talked softly with Roy Harper who was in his own wheelchair for the time being. The whole gang was there just waiting for news from the surgeons, waiting to hear how much of the tumor they'd been able to get out and how much chemotherapy, if any, he would need to get rid of the rest.

The nights leading up to Bruce's surgery had been surprisingly calm with only two kills by The Red Hood and he had to admit he was grateful. There was just too much happening in his life to worry about some self-righteous serial killer and his nefarious plans for the city. Instead, he'd been able to bring JT back to the manor with him to talk and visit with Bruce and even Roy. Other nights he simply stayed at the penthouse with JT.

Wally still texted him, asking how things were going and it was a testament to how badly the red haired man disliked JT that he refused to come down while Bruce was being operated on. Wally insisted that a man who could just shrug off Roy's injuries like JT had was not good enough for Dick and he was absolutely flabbergasted to hear that Roy and JT were actually getting along. Dick had tried to remind Wally of JT's past, but having grown up in a negligent and somewhat abusive home himself, Wally wasn't hearing it. It was no excuse.

He fidgeted and moved for the millionth time, this time releasing JT's hand and cuddling into his strong arms. The younger man smiled and kissed the top of his head before resting his chin there. Tim rolled his eyes while Alfred sighed almost sadly and looked away from them. Tim's reaction he could handle, but what was wrong with Alfred? Then again, they were sitting in a hospital while Bruce Wayne's brain was being operated on.

“I'm gonna go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee.” Tim announced as he stood and his best friend quickly joined him. “Anyone want any?”

“Still sipping on my last one.” Barbara sighed. “Thank you, though.”

“Anyone else?” Connor asked. When no one answered he shrugged and led Tim away.

“So are they fucking or what?” JT asked.

“What?” Barbara frowned.

Roy barked out a loud laugh, earning a glare from him and and his girlfriend while to Dick's shock, Alfred merely smiled. “No Master Bennet, I do not believe they are involved with each other that way at this time.”

“But Connor wants him.” Roy added quickly.

“Dude, really?” Dick frowned and he could tell from the looks of both JT and Roy that neither were sure who that was directed at.

“He does.” Roy insisted.

“See that's what I was thinking.” JT nodded. “He looks like he wants to drag him to a bathroom and just pound the Hell out of him.”

“Ok that's enough.” Barbara frowned. “Not only is Tim underage still, but this conversation is completely inappropriate and none of our business.”

“Grow up guys.” Dick backed her up and then pinched the arm that JT had wrapped around him.

“First off, Drake's just turned seventeen, that's old enough.” JT rolled his teal eyes. “He's old enough to consent to being with Connor so its not inappropriate to discuss.”

“And Connor totally grabbed Tim's ass when they rounded the corner.” Roy chuckled.

“Nu-uh,” JT smiled. “Did he really?”

“Totally.” Roy confirmed.

“Nice.”

“I'm sorry, why is that nice?” Dick asked.

Roy and JT looked at him if he were the one who was crazy and had just asked the dumbest question possible. He looked to Barbara and Alfred, but they appeared just as lost as he was. Honestly, that made him feel a bit better as he looked back to his boyfriend and one of his best friends.

“Because maybe if Timmy has Connor's cock up his ass, he'll have a reason to act like a stick is shoved up it.”

“Master Bennet, really!” Alfred admonished with an angry look, but Roy howled with laughter as he nodded. The injured man than reached over for a fist bump. “Master Harper I would ask that you not encourage this kind of behavior, we are in public.”

“You guys are terrible.” Barbara snapped at Roy, smacking his shoulder while Dick took the opportunity to pinch JT for the second time.

Still, Dick couldn't help the easy smile or the warmth he felt in his chest. He'd never, ever expected Roy and JT to get along and yet here they were giggling immaturely about Tim and Connor's sex life. It was as if they were old friend's who just hadn't recognized each other. Now if only he could get Wally to accept him.

“Mr. Pennyworth?” They all froze as a young woman in doctor's scrubs approached them. Their friend and butler stood and nodded. “I just want to let you and his family know that the surgery went very well. We were able to remove the mass without any complications and we expect him to make a full recovery at this time.

“He's being moved back to his room where we plan to keep him for a minimum of five days to be sure that he's healing properly. You'll be able to see him in about an hour or two once he's awake, alright?”

 

* * *

 

February 28th

23:57 hrs

 

Alfred left the window open for him and he'd need to remember to thank him. They'd spent most of the evening in his room, but he'd been JT Bennet. He couldn't say the things he wanted and he couldn't react the way he wanted. He had to be strong for Dick, had to hold him close and remind him that a man he was barely supposed to have known would be just fine. It was his job to be the rock during their visit and to ignore his own fears and concerns.

He'd left around seven and then sent a text message to Alfred, asking that he inform him the moment Dick, Tim, Roy and Barbara had left and when Bruce had fallen asleep. Thankfully he'd received an almost immediate response from the old man promising to do so. His only condition was that he meet Alfred for some coffee afterward. It wasn't an easy request to agree to, but he had because he knew he owed it to him.

Tonight he was in full costume. He'd ditched the brown leather coat and black slacks in favor of his black and white leather jacket with a red cotton hoodie beneath it. He didn't wear his red face helmet because he wanted to be able to talk to him without sounding like some fucking robot. It needed to be his voice that spoke to Bruce, not The Red Hood speaking to Batman.

The curtains were drawn and there was a note on the dry erase board that promised the next check up would be at about one in the morning. It was left by the last nurse along with several notes on his vitals and medicines and a contact number for the family should something go wrong. That gave him a little more than an hour, plenty of time to get it all off his chest, to say what he needed to say.

He took a deep breath and stepped up to where the big man lie on his bed, his head heavily wrapped in bandages. He looked a little pale, but then maybe Jason was just projecting his worst fears on the man. After all, he'd never, ever seen B look so very vulnerable. It appeared that he was resting peacefully, his chest rising and falling to a rhythm that assured him he was deep in slumber.

He pulled the hood back, letting black hair fall and frame his face. Normally he pulled it back when he was out on patrols, Hell for that matter he usually used temporary hair spray paint to blacken his white streak too, but tonight he'd done none of it. He'd nearly left the domino mask behind as well, but decided that he was being reckless enough for one night. As it was, if Dick, Tim, Roy or Barbara came in they'd know he was The Red Hood.

“Can you hear me, B?” He whispered into the dimly lit room. After two silent minutes he decided it was safe to talk. “I never got a chance to really talk to you. We were always so busy fucking yelling at each other that there was no way we heard anything the other way saying. At least, I know I didn't hear shit you had to say.

“Damn, where do I start?” He asked and felt his eyes water and he angrily shook his head. “I hate you. That's usually the first I go with, right? You don't know me, you don't know shit about the fucked up life I lived or the Hell I endured on the streets. Nothing you have done while you were out there pretending to be a poor criminal could have ever compared to what it was like to be born in that shithole and I hated you for ever thinking it did. It's still true, or at least it still feels true half the time, but that's usually what I started with.

“What I never could say though, was...Was that I didn't hate you. Not really. Not ever. I loved you, I loved you more than I loved anyone at that time and I looked up to you. You and Dick were the people I always wanted to be, the men I always admired and would have done anything for, but...I got so fucking mad and then everything just went to shit, and it still does. It's like Barbie said, there's a darkness in me, B, a darkness so tainted and ugly that even Dick's stupid smile can't over power it.”

Jason wanted to reach out and touch his mentor, to take his hand, but he couldn't risk waking him. He wiped at couple of stray tears, angry they fell to begin with, and took a deep breath as he prepared to continue talking to a man he was too afraid to face during the light of day or consciousness.

“This next bit, this is the part that really fucking sucks. I've lived it with for years, B and you know what? You could have helped with this one but you didn't. You could have asked, you could have asked for my fucking side and I would have bared my soul to you. I would have told you that yes I did push Felip Garzonas over that damned balcony. But you didn't ask, you didn't bother because asking would have meant trusting me to tell you the truth and we both know how little you trusted me.

“How could you, right? I was damaged goods. I was beat and raped on the streets, I was a victim who turned into a wild and frightened animal with too many triggers. I was a thief and a brawler and if you'd left me alone out there I probably would have ended up the leader of a vicious fucking street gang. I was a living reminder that no matter how much you did on those streets, that nothing would ever really change, a sentiment that I must have cemented when I threw that shithead over the rails.”

Jason gritted his teeth, wiped away the tears and tried to fight the tremors in his shoulders. “You didn't ask though, and because you didn't, I couldn't tell you why I killed him. You wouldn't have wanted to hear it, you wouldn't have wanted to let me justify it, but I promise you Bruce I was justified, I was.” He whispered as memories he didn't want to relive flashed before his eyes. He dropped to his knees because they were too much, too violent and still too real. “Why didn't you ask, Bruce? Was it because you didn't want it confirmed just how terrible Crime Alley really had been to me? Was it because you didn't want to believe that I wouldn't feel remorse?”

He ripped the domino mask off and stared at it in his hands. “I don't regret killing him, I don't. I never will because in so many ways you were right about me. I'm not made of the same stuff that you, Dick or even the new kid are made of. That darkness has been swallowing me up since I was an infant.

“Wouldn't really be fair to blame you for that. You tried. I know that at least. You and Alfred really did try to be the best mentors you knew how to be. How were you to know that I was too broken to change my destiny? How could you have been expected to deal with such an unruly, violent little bastard after everything had gone so well with Golden Boy?

“But, you know what my biggest regret was? Never showing you how grateful I was for a whole three fucking years of sleeping soundly in an actual bed. A bed that wasn't a cardboard box or busted up mattress with who knew what staining it. I'm sorry that I never once thanked you for teaching me to fight so that even if I did end up back on the streets I would never be so weak or vulnerable again. I didn't thank you for feeding me and educating me. I didn't thank you for trying to be something of a dad and a big brother to me, for wanting to help me out of the goodness of your stupid fucking heart.

“You may not have been perfect and you may have made me feel like absolute shit at times, but it wasn't intentionally done. You genuinely tried to help me because you wanted to help me. No one ever loved me enough to want better for me, B, not before you. Because of you I didn't die on those streets, because of you I got to die a fucking hero! I got to be Robin! Thanks to you, I have three years of memories where even when we were fighting, I was so fucking happy.”

He stilled when he heard Bruce mumble something and then he jumped to his feet. The man's eyes were still closed but he looked fitful and suddenly Jason wondered if he'd been the one to wake him, if he'd spoken to loudly or cried to hard. Again he wiped at his cheeks and stared down at his mask.

“I should go, B, before you wake up or a nurse comes in to find out who the fuck's sobbing in your room like a damned child.” He inhaled and then placed the red domino mask in Bruce's hand “One last thing though, something you have to know.

“I never wanted to leave you and believe it or not, I've forgiven you for all the shit between us. When it comes to that terrible day that I was taken from you? You did nothing to require my forgiveness. Please don't ever doubt that, okay? I wasn't going to leave you for the bio-mom, either. I promise. I was going to come home after I saved her.

“I'm sorry, B. I'm sorry I never told you that it wasn't your fault, I'm sorry I never got a chance to come back and tell you any of that. I loved you, B. I'm sorry I was such a fuck up and I'm sorry I made it so hard, but I did love you and I guess still do.”

 

* * *

 

“Jason?” Bruce woke with a start, his heart pounding as he looked all around him in the darkened hospital room. He searched everywhere for the phantom he'd seen in his dreams, the young man who was equal parts begging his forgiveness while damning him with angry tears. His chest clenched tight when he saw that he was all alone.

Relief that he hadn't lost his mind warred with the grief that he'd come up with such a cruel dream to torment himself with. What he wouldn't give to know that the boy he'd failed so horrendously had truly forgiven him, had never blamed him to begin with. Was his subconscious so desperately in need of closure that he'd come up with such a vivid and thorough conversation?

He brought his hand up to gently probe at the bandages on his head, only to realize he was holding something. It was a dark red domino mask. How had it gotten there? He carefully looked around but his head was hurting and he felt weak. As his eyes tried to close on him he saw that his window was open and that the screen was missing. He tried to commit that to memory, but before he could think much of anything else, he was falling back into a medicinally induced slumber.

 


	23. One Very Long Day Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so sorry this took so long to get out. I apologize in advance for any typos or errors. I don't have a beta so yeah. Things are starting to come to a head and it's stressful to write, however I will try to update as often as possible. Please enjoy!

Chapter 23

 

March 1st

06:30 hrs

 

Tim walked in to the room silently without waking Bruce and set down his school bag by the foot of his bed. He needed to see for himself that the man was still okay and that he was being properly taken care of. The staff knew to let himself, Alfred or Dick in at any time while Bruce was hospitalized, but they all decided that no one would be spending the night. They wanted to respect Bruce's privacy and had agreed to only come around during the times he was normally awake during the week.

He knew that Alfred and Dick would be along later. Alfred was meeting with a friend for coffee and Dick had the day shift for the next two weeks. It was important that they all get some one on one time with Bruce. They all knew how much he hated being 'taken care of' so visiting one at a time would most likely keep him from getting too irritable or stressed.

As he approached the bed he frowned when he noticed a dark red domino mask in Bruce's right hand. He immediately scanned the room and checked the windows. Everything was shut and sealed tight. There was no sign of damage and there hadn't been anything to steal, so how had a domino mask ended up in Bruce's hand?

Biting his lip, Tim carefully pulled it from the sleeping man's grasp. The piece was similar, nearly identical to the ones the Bat-Clan used. Then again, Green Arrow and his team used their same technology as well, amongst other super hero teams and even super villains. The mask was a little heavy indicating it probably held the same night vision tech in the white lenses that their own did. There was padding on the inside like their own and...his eyes widened.

He knew this shape, he knew it better than probably anyone because he'd spent so much time staring at it in the glass case. This was Jason Todd's domino mask. He frowned as his steel blue eyes settled on Bruce sadly. He knew how much Bruce's thoughts had gone to Jason Todd over the past year, which now that he knew about the tumor made a lot of sense. The boy had always been one of Bruce's greatest regrets and facing death, especially one that he couldn't control, he definitely would have had him on his mind. Bruce was always trying to figure out how to do things better and Tim more than most knew first hand how often he obsessed over what he could have done differently to save Jason.

Tim sighed as he decided not to spend his time thinking about the hours and hours of training he'd done with Bruce coldly watching several feet away. He didn't want to remember how long it had taken for the billionaire to finally open up to him and allow him to be a partner, a friend and a son. Those first few months had been painful, but Tim didn't dwell because he honestly forgave him for all of it. Hell, he didn't just forgive him, he thanked him for it, because he was alive today because of how hard he pushed him.

“What the?” He'd been playing with the mask in his hands when he felt something sticky on the mask. His eyes widened and he felt his chest constrict tightly. There was spirit gum on the mask! For that matter, the mask wasn't busted either! That meant...He looked up at the ceiling and around the room. Damn! No cameras. “Shit!”

Who had visited him last night? How had this mask wound up in Bruce's hands? He grabbed a plastic bag from his back pack, because he was always prepared to collect evidence, and placed the mask in the bag before putting it away. He'd stop back at the manor and have DNA testing run while he was in school. Sure he might be late, but it would be worth it. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

 

March 1st

8:15 hrs

 

“You look terrible.” Alfred chided as he slid the cup of coffee over to Jason. “How late were you out this morning?”

“Fuck, really? Already? Straight to the damned lecturing.” He pouted as he took a seat at the small kitchen table across from him. He eyed the coffee appreciatively and Alfred couldn't help the small smile that took over his face. “Thanks.”

Alfred hadn't been too surprised to receive a keycard to his penthouse this morning when he arrived for their conversation. What had surprised him was the cleanliness of the living space. Then again, he probably allowed the maid service to take care of it. Jason Todd had never been as messy as Dick, but he doubted he'd become a neat freak like Tim. A clean area made it easy to get to work brewing the coffee for the two of them while Jason finished showering.

At the moment, he wanted to give him a few minutes before he started in because Jason had no idea just how much lecturing was about to take place. There was much to discuss but it was going to be discussed whether the young man wanted to or not. Things simply could not be left as they were and while he would do what he could to keep the boy's secrets, he didn't want to do it for long. It felt too much like betrayal and he owed Bruce too much to hide one of his own wards from him.

“He didn't wake up, but I did something really stupid.” Jason sighed as he glared down at his coffee cup.

“Oh and what might that be?” Alfred asked with a cool air, easily masking his concern.

“I um, I might have left my mask behind.”

“That's a large item to leave behind, Master Todd.” Alfred's eyes widened.

“Not the helmet.” Jason rolled his eyes. “My fucking domino mask.” He grumbled and took a drink of his hot coffee.

“You still wear one?” He had to admit that caught him by surprise.

“Yeah, I usually spray paint my hair black and wear the domino when I don't want too much attention as...you know. The Hood.” Jason sighed. “Only Batman's seen The Red Hood wear it though.”

“You're sure?” He couldn't help but doubt it.

“Yeah, I was wearing it when I found him passed out and stuck him in the Batmobile. Summers wore one but it wasn't shaped like mine.”

“Wait, you don't mean?”

Jason grimaced and nodded, his eyes kept down like a scolded child. He couldn't believe that he was wearing the same style of mask that he'd worn as a teenager. If Dick or Tim had seen it, well maybe not Dick because the young man could be very naïve, but Tim would know immediately whose mask it was and with that connection made...

“Do you want to be caught, Master Todd?” He asked simply and without any kind of heat to his words because at the moment he was curious.

He shrugged his brawny shoulders. “Sometimes.” He sighed. “Not because I want to stop doing what I do, but because I want Bruce to know what I am and what I'm capable of.”

“Yes and how do you think that's going to go over, Jason?” Alfred rolled his eyes, feeling little control over the irritation building inside of him. “Not only have you been killing people, but you've managed to injure Roy Harper, manipulate Dick into a sexual relationship, and frighten Timothy half to death. Exactly how do you see this all ending, Jason, because you can't be foolish enough to think they will let any of it go?”

“You think I'm stupid, Alfred? You think I don't know that Bruce will never forgive me?” Jason snickered as his voice grew louder. “Dick will dump me, hate me, possibly even kick my ass! Bruce will threaten me, probably lock me up in New Arkham because he'll prefer to believe I am bat-shit insane and Timothy...Well I don't really know much about what the replacement will do.”

Alfred looked around the sparse penthouse and took a deep breath. He didn't appreciate how loud Jason's voice was, but the young man had never known how to whisper when he was feeling defensive or cornered. His temper had always bothered Alfred who had tried so hard to instill better habits, but yelling was something that the boy wasn't capable of overcoming it seemed.

When he looked up again, Jason was glaring silently at the table. “Do you, do you love Dick, Jason?” He asked gently.

“If I don't, I'm getting there pretty fucking fast.” He grumbled as he slouched in his chair, reminding Alfred that this young man was barely twenty-one.

“Look, I don't see how this is going to work out for either of you, but the one thing Master Grayson cannot stand is lies and secrets.”

“Fucking hypocrite.” Jason sneered. “It's not as if he walks around telling his partners both in bed or on the force that he's Nightwing.”

“Stop acting like a petulant child and pay attention, Jason.” Only when Jason sat up straight and stopped pouting did he continue. “If you don't tell him the truth you stand no chance of fixing this, but even then it's going to take a long time to get over. Unlike you, Dick never saw you as anything but a little brother. He loved you like a brother, he picked on you like a brother and he mourned you like a brother.”

“But I never saw him that way!” Jason snapped as he slammed his fist down on the table between them. “He insisted on treating me like some little kid! I wasn't nine fucking years old like he had been! I wasn't protected by loving parents, I knew how the world worked. I had a thing for him! I crushed on him and even Roy a little back then.”

“That doesn't change how he saw you.” Alfred sighed and reached out to take Jason's hand in his own. “One of your secrets needs to come out soon or you'll never be able to fix this, Master Todd.”

“He dumped me for making fun of Roy's injury, he finds out I'm the asshole that caused it and he'll never forgive me.”

“May I ask, Master Todd, what you plan to do long-term?” Alfred asked.

“The Red Hood stays and so does his tactics. This city needs to be cleansed, the League of Assassin's are not wrong about that. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not going to stop what I'm doing. I'm home for good, now. The Bat wants to keep attacking me, so be it.”

“Eventually he'll lock you up.” He warned.

“Or I'll incapacitate him.” Jason shrugged as he crossed his arms. “I'm not going to kill them, but I won't keep avoiding them either. They insist on hunting me down and I'll do what I have to. Neither Blackgate nor Arkham are an option for me, Alfred.”

“I will not allow you to harm them.” He tried again. “You will-

“Relax, Alfred, there's plenty of time before that becomes a real issue. Bruce has months of recovery ahead of him. Dick is easy to distract and I know how to neutralize the kid without hurting him. I promised you I wouldn't hurt them while you're keeping my secrets and I won't.”

“I'll try to retrieve the mask when I visit Master Bruce in the hospital.” Alfred added after a few silent moments.

 

* * *

 

March 1st

11:30 hrs

 

Harvey Bullock frowned as he tried to figure out where he was supposed to start on his latest assignment from the masked vigilante. The man was absolutely convinced that several of GCPD's finest were on the The Black Mask's payroll and for all he knew it was true. Hell, given the history of his city it was definitely true. The real question that faced him wasn't whether or not there were moles in his precinct, but how to find them all.

Some were easy to cross off the list immediately. The commissioner, the captain, most of the homicide detectives and of course Richard Grayson were all clean. It was the rest of the beat cops he couldn't be sure of as well as several detectives. He had to figure out a way to investigate them with out drawing attention to himself.

He watched as Officer Grayson and a young female officer stood beside the entry to the locker rooms. Dick had an easy smile on his face, though Bullock could tell he was actually stressed out. He had the right to be, what with his old man laid up in a hospital recovering from brain surgery. The way the woman was acting, it was clear she was trying to offer him some comfort. Too bad for her she was barking up the wrong tree.

“Hey, Grayson, how's Bennet?” He asked as he walked over.

“Oh he's actually doing really well. We're gonna try to meet for drinks when I get off work.” The younger man beamed. “Hey, actually I wanted to talk to you about something.” He looked to the affronted woman and apologized before he stood by his side and spoke softly as they walked toward Bullock's own desk. “Umm, you don't think Black Mask is still going after JT and his company, do you?”

“You know, Grayson, that's what I was just coming over to talk to you about.” He lied easily. “I think there's reason to believe that JT is in a lot of danger and unfortunately it's not going to come from someone so obvious this time.”

The kid's eyes widened and then narrowed in concentration. “I was afraid of that, but what do you mean someone so obvious?”

“Last time his men picked him up and didn't bother to hide their association. They thought they squashed that deal. Now that Wayne Enterprises stepped in and rescued the project we think they might use an assassin, you know? JT Bennet's the one fighting hardest for this thing and if he were to die...”

“The project goes away.” Dick frowned, his blue eyes staring at him in fear. “God I have to warn JT!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, Sparky.” Harvey grabbed the kid before he could take off. “There's more to it than just a hit, we need to know who's going to perform it.”

“Any leads?” Dick asked, his eyes glancing to the exit. Bullock knew he wanted out of there as fast as he could to go warn his lover.

“Yeah and you're not going to like it.” He nodded. “Think about it, who can get anywhere without being questioned, who would most people trust without fail, who killed Bennet's employees?”

“A cop.” The kid deflated. “Do we know who could be working for Black Mask?”

“I'm gonna be investigating the detectives and higher ups since it won't seem odd if I'm poking around. Won't raise any suspicions.” He spoke softly, even though no one was around his desk. He had a bad reputation both professionally and personally. “What I need is someone to be my eyes and ears with the beat cops.”

“You mean me.” He smiled.

“Yeah. Detective starts poking around in the business of uniforms and it'll spook Black Mask's men.” He explained. “So, can I count on you to help me save your boyfriend's life?”

“Yeah, I mean. Yes of course, you can.” Dick nodded. “I'll get right on it.”

“Thanks, Kid. Oh! And this is just between me and the commissioner so don't be flapping your gums to anyone else, got it?”

“I'm not an idiot, Bullock.” He smiled again. “Thanks for bringing me in on this.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn't tell Gordon about that either, you know seeing as how you're dating the guy and all.” Harvey rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, feigning remorse at the idea of bringing him on. It took all of his will power not to smile when Dick's eyes widened in concern.

“No, Detective, I swear, this stays just between us. I won't tell a soul.” He promised.

“Don't make me regret this.” Harvey sighed irritably. “Now get out of here before someone catches on.”

Before he could say anything else the young beat cop was on his feet and moving back toward his own. A lot of people thought that Bullock was just an uneducated swine without any real skill or talent save for bullying and intimidation. In all fairness, he was the first to admit he wasn't the brightest guy out there, but they didn't make any monkey with a gun a detective and during the time he'd been promoted, you actually had to have common sense, skill, and the ability to solve puzzles. He had those in spades which was why it was so easy to manipulate the officer into helping him out.

 

* * *

 

14:47 hrs

 

Tim stepped out of the large building that was almost his home away from home. Gotham Prep was the premiere private school that all the children of Gotham's elite attended. The moment he approached the line of cars waiting to pick up their school children, he knew something was wrong. Alfred was never late and he was always at the front of the line. For him to not even be in the line of vehicles meant that something bad had happened.

But what?

With Bruce being in the hospital, his first thought went to him. Was Alfred there with him? Had his guardian suffered a stroke or fallen into a coma? No if that were so then Barbara or Dick or even Con-El would have been sent to pick him up. So it couldn't possibly be Bruce.

If no one else was in Alfreds place to pick him up then it was Alfred who was in trouble. Perhaps a car accident or God forbid a heart attack. He pulled out his cell phone and checked for any missed calls, messages or voice mails. There were none so he called Alfred.

The phone was answered upon the first ring. “Oh I do apologize Timothy, but the car broke down and I was forced to switch vehicles, you should see me in the black Lexus.”

Timothy? In the years he'd know Alfred there was no way the Englishman would have ever called him by his first name alone which meant that something was amiss.

“If something's wrong call me Timothy, if everything is alright call me Master Drake.” He tried, feeling his heart race.

“No Timothy, I am not at the front of the line. I'm at the back.” Alfred answered immediately.

“Is your life being threatened?”

“Of course not.” It suddenly dawned on Tim that there was no way Alfred would tell him if he were. It was far more important to Alfred that he keep his young men safe then it was to protect himself. He'd sacrifice himself in a heart beat if it meant that either he, Dick, or Bruce weren't in any danger.

“How many are there?”

He let out a heavy sigh that was definitely genuine. “I'm afraid it's just going to be the two of us for dinner, tonight, Timothy. Hurry along so we can get going. We can discuss dinner plans more when you are in the car.”

Only two? He could handle two men even if they were armed. Well, so long as they didn't draw first or put Alfred in a hostage situation. He was just starting to respond when he felt a heavy presence behind him as well as the point of a small gun pressed into his left kidney. “Why don't you just keep walking, Mr. Drake.”

“Timothy?” Alfred frowned.

“Hang up the phone.” The man with the gun ordered and he did as he was told. This was the exact situation he didn't want to be in. “Now, don't make a scene, Punk. If you do, I'll kill you and several of your schoolmates on the way over as well as your precious butler. Got it?”

“G-got it.” He nodded and started walking forward, assuming the man was using a large coat to keep the weapon from being seen by other teenagers or parents. Unfortunately, he imagined the guy looked like the bodyguard type, so he doubted anyone would be alarmed to see a large man walking so closely to one of the teenagers.

He was roughly shoved into the back of the vehicle at the end of the loop in front of the school. Alfred was tossed out the other side of the car by another of the men, causing Tim to be sandwiched between the two thugs. Tim started to shout for him, but the man behind him grabbed his mouth and quickly started to tie his hands behind his back while the other who'd thrown Alfred out gagged and blindfolded him.

Whoever drove, backed out of the drive way and took off. “Call the boss, let him know that the butler will deliver the message to Bruce Wayne within the next fifteen minutes.” The man with the gun who'd walked him into the car growled to the one sitting on the opposite side of him.

It didn't take long for the other to comply. “Yeah, we got him. Butler should be delivering the message now. Not a hair, not yet.” He paused. “We'll wait for your orders.” Tim heard what had to be a burner phone snap closed.

“Relax, Drake, so long as your Daddy pulls funding from the Burrows Reformation Project, you'll get to go back home.” He chuckled as he pressed the gun into his side. “All you need to worry about is how much he loves you.”

 

* * *

 

Alfred got to his feet and quickly pulled out his cell phone. He had orders from the men to deliver a message to Bruce Wayne and he would, but not until he contacted the former Robins. He sent a separate text message first to Jason.

To Jason: Master Drake was just kidnapped at Gotham Prep by Black Mask's men, in a west bound direction. They were in a black Lexus, license plate # 232 KFA. I must contact Master Bruce to inform him of the terms of his release which demand that he pull all funding from Bennet Construction's Burrows Reformation Project.

To Alfred: I'm en-route.

He was grateful for the immediate response and he quickly dialed dispatch. With Dick working and on shift at the moment he couldn't just disappear. Alfred needed to call in an emergency or it would look suspicious and possibly cost the young man his job if he simply left, something he knew the young man would do upon hearing that his brother was in danger.

“Gotham PD Family Emergency Line.” A bored sounding woman answered.

“Yes, this is Alfred Pennyworthy and I am trying to reach Officer Richard Grayson to inform him of a family emergency regarding his father, Bruce Wayne.” He said quickly.

“Hold please.” She sighed and he was left listening to Bette Midler's Wind Beneath My Wings. Thankfully she returned quickly. “We've delivered the message to his commanding officer. Is there a number you'd like to leave behind?”

“No thank you, Madam, he already has the number.”

“Alright, anything else?”

“That will be all, thank you.” Alfred hung up and then he called 911. It pained him that Bruce would be the last to know, but there were specific protocols that Bruce had put in place for these things and really, the only thing he'd done outside of them was to involve The Red Hood.

* * *

 

Jason had left through a trap door in the trailer of his office that was conveniently located above a manhole into the sewer. Okay, so it was convenient. It was deliberate as fuck for shitty situations just like this one. He'd locked the front door to his office and told his secretary that he would not be taking any calls or seeing anyone. Down in the sewer he threw off his shirt and put on his body armor, black t-shirt and the brown riding jacket this time as well as his red helmet.

He ran as fast as he could down in the sewers to where his bike was parked, calling Bullock as he did so. He didn't bother greeting the man. “Very soon the Wayne Butler is going to call in the kidnapping and ransom of Timothy Drake by Black Mask's men. You need to watch your colleagues, this might be the best opportunity you'll get to flush out the rats.”

“Jesus, um, alright I'm right here in the bull pen.” The man nodded.

“The perfect place to be. If I locate him before the police I'll send you the coordinates.”

“What if we find him first? Do I need to contact you?”

“I'm patched into your radio channels. I'll hear it.” Jason assured him. “Good luck detective.”  
He climbed up the ladder and out of the sewers as Bullock disconnected the call. “Listen to GCPD Dispatch.” He voice commanded his helmet and was pleased to be coming on just as the BOLO was sent out to all units. Within in seconds he was racing through the back streets to the area the vehicle was last seen.

* * *

 

Tim shivered as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His teeth would be chattering if it weren't for the gag from the chill in the air. He had no doubt based on the temperature, the sounds and the stickiness of the floor that he was in freezer of some kind. The smell was similar to yeast so that combined with what must be syrups, fruit filling and other messy sugar products, he assumed he was in a bakery's freezer.

He'd been in the freezer for nearly an hour and he was getting a little scared that he'd never get out. He knew better than to keep moving around, even if it would bring some badly needed warmth to his muscles. If he kept moving he ran the risk of poisoning himself with his own carbon dioxide, but really he only needed to worry about that after a four to six hours depending on how large or small the freezer was.

Dick was at work so it was no wonder that it was taking so long for some kind of rescue to be made. He'd have to get out of work, make sure he was seen in the hospital with Bruce since everyone would be watching and then slip out and change into his costume. That would be the easiest part, since once he did all that, he'd then have to find him and his captors!

Taking only a few deep breaths he instructed himself to remain calm but it was difficult. Even if Bruce Wayne and JT Bennet agreed to back off from the project, he had no doubt that Black Mask wouldn't let him leave until both had publicly announced that they would end it. What if he made Bennet leave town first? How long would they really keep him alive?

Tim shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Bruce and JT wouldn't have to do any of that because he was going to be rescued before it got to that point. He just had to help out as much as possible and the best way to help was to gather information from his surroundings which would be easier if he could get the blindfold off.

He stepped cautiously forward, toeing at the empty air in front of him and trying to ignore the way his shoe got stuck a couple of times. When he finally found what felt like a thin bit of metal he pressed himself against it, knee, thigh, his torso, his shoulder. He carefully pressed his head forward and found the same round metal bit and after leaning his head against it he moved downward until he was able to get the blindfold off his eyes.

“I knew it.” He smirked as he stared at the shelf full of baked goods he'd used to get his sight back.

Looking all around he was finally able to see how small his prison cell was, which was unfortunately rather small, maybe a ten by ten unit? The temperature showed it be -1 degrees Fahrenheit thus frostbite was also a concern with the way his hands were tied behind his back, making it difficult for him to pull them in for warmth.

He couldn't sit down on the floor, that would just make him colder and he couldn't wrap himself up in anything with the way he was tied up. Pacing was dangerous if he didn't know how long he was going to be inside and so all he could really do was stand still and wait patiently for help to arrive. He hoped it wouldn't be long though because he was getting tired and that meant his body was reacting negatively to the frozen air surrounding him.

For twenty minutes at least, he searched for something to cut through the zip ties around his wrists, but there was nothing. He shivered constantly and he was desperate to pull his hands into his chest. He would have brought his hands forward by looping them over his feet, but they hadn't allowed any slack between the two ties, making it impossible to readjust the way he normally would have. His jaw was also aching from the thick rag or towel they'd used to gag him. Once again, they hadn't left much slack, which meant that there were possibly people around who could hear him if he cried for help.

Wait! If that were so then perhaps if he made enough noise, someone would call the cops or maybe his kidnappers would arrive and he'd be able to get some kind of upper hand over them! He was just about to start kicking walls when he heard a muffled pop, pop, pop. He ran toward the door but stopped just short of it's range as it swung open.

A bloody police officer was tossed in by two large men, both in suits and both wearing costumed skeletons masks that were of course spray painted black. “You're gonna regret taking off that blindfold, punk.” The closest one snarled as he walked forward, a bat in his hand.

Everything happened so fast. One moment he was standing and trying to fight his freezing and tired muscled to dodge the weapon, the next he was on the ground with a splitting head ache. His vision was fuzzy and he was definitely disoriented from the strike. He tried to focus on the man but he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the men asked in a shaky voice.

“Is the Batman?” Another snickered. “I didn't know he wore red.”

“I'm not Batman.” The mechanized voice growled. “Which is really unfortunate for you, because he would have allowed you to live.”

He tried to see through the haze but the painfully loud gunfire was making his head throb even worse, not mention his ears were now ringing to boot. He'd be lucky if he didn't lose some of his hearing seeing how he was trapped in a metal room with who knew how many gunmen firing their weapons.

There were several thuds as he watched blurry shapes hit the ground in front of him and outside of the freezer. The man cursed at one or two of them as he his heavy boots clapped against the tile floor beneath them. After a couple seconds his vision started to re-focus and he saw The Red Hood in his brown leather jacket coming toward him with a large knife.

“If you fight me, Robin, I'll knock your ass out, got it?” Instead of answering he gave him the best glare he could muster. How dare he call him that in front of these thugs! It was entirely possibly that at least one of them would hear him.

A chill ran down his spine as he realized that he was wrong. None of these men would hear The Red Hood call him Robin because they were dead. He couldn't feel even the slightest bit of relief as he felt his hands cut free; all he felt was shame and horror. When the rag was cut free, he nearly vomited. “Come on, Replacement.” He heard the voice sigh and the next thing he knew he was in the strong and warm arms of the man he'd been hunting for months. The man who had hurt his friend Roy, the man who had murdered the men in the room with him as well as countless others. He was in the arms of a man who'd threatened and insulted him even in that moment.

And yet the man was holding him carefully as he cradled him against his warm, broad chest. “W-why? Wh-hy is it alw-ways y-you?” He rasped out.

“Fuck if I know.” The man ground out. “But I'm just as sick of rescuing your sorry ass as you are.”

“G-gee thank-ks.” Tim rolled his eyes but immediately regretted it. He winced in pain and felt the man's arms tighten just slightly.

“Yeah, you've got one hell of knot on your head.” He shivered again as The Red Hood ran a gloved hand through his hair right around the injury. He traced the outside of what must have been the knot and he grimaced at the size. “Broken wing and now a broken skull? You know Replacement, you're not supposed to be as frail as a real bird.”

“Wh-whoever y-you are, y-you're a r-real assh-hole.” His teeth continued to chatter, but he was okay with that. Shivering was a good sign.

“There's the Wayne way. Spit and curse the man who rescued you just because you don't like his methods.” He was carried over to an officer and sat down in chair. “Bunch of ungrateful...”

“Th-the M-man? M-more l-like the K-k-killer.”

“Fuck you.” There was flash of movement and Tim braced himself for a punch to the face. He was startled when he felt the heavy brown leather jacket wrapped around his slight shoulders. “Keep your arms crossed over your chest, Tim.” He ordered before zipping the jacket up around him. “The dead cop got out his location to dispatch before he died so his back up should be arriving with a bus in seconds.”

“Freeze! Put your hands in the air, now!” Tim looked behind The Red Hood to see Dick standing in his police uniform with his gun trained on the murderous vigilante.

The Red Hood shook his head and turned to face him. “You can't kill in costume, what makes you think I believe you'll kill in a uniform?” The man taunted. “Hell, you're so brainwashed to hate guns, I doubt you'd even shoot me to incapacitate me.”

“Wanna bet?” Dick growled, his blue eyes narrowed and his hands steady on his weapon.

“This oughtta be fun.” The Red Hood laughed and Tim felt it was almost as sinister as the Clown's thanks to the voice modifier. He pulled a knife from his belt and twirled it. “You still haven't shot, Officer.”

Dick moved first, but The Red Hood was already ducking under him pivoting quickly so that the two were in opposite positions in the room than they had started in. Before Dick could move made or another taunt was called out, The Red Hood spun back around and ran out the door as fast as he could. Dick started to give chase but instead grabbed his radio and called in his location and status and the need for an ambulance right away.

“Timmy, are you alright?” Dick asked as soon as he faced him.

“M-my head and hyp-potherm-mia.” He chattered and tried to curl in on himself beneath the sinfully warm jacket. “He s-saved m-me? Ag-gain?”

“Don't worry about that. An ambulance is coming now, okay. Just relax.” Dick pulled him into soft hug and ran his hands up and down his back, trying to help keep him warm. Tim appreciated it so he didn't say anything else. He simply thought on what had happened and tried to focus on everything The Red Hood had said, but only one thing kept bouncing around in his head. Replacement, he'd called him Replacement, but why?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for Alfred getting a little out of character in calling Jason by his first name instead of the formal Master Todd. I am having him do it because Jason requested it of him the night he discovered the truth and because it's his way of forming a connection and keeping Jason open to him. If he gets formal, he fears that Jason will close himself off. So yeah, that's my reasoning. I hope you all understand and enjoyed! Thanks for reading!


	24. One Very Long Day Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait. I promised this would be out far sooner and then I was informed that my family and I are moving from Utah to Texas, so I ended up having to do a lot and will have a lot more to do after. Please don't hate me for this chapter and as always, please enjoy!

Chapter 24

 

March 1st

16:17 hrs

 

Dick held Tim's hand as they rode to the hospital in the ambulance. He still couldn't believe he'd made it to his brother's side in time. What had originally started as an emergency call about Bruce turned out to be Alfred telling him about Tim's kidnapping. The butler had informed him of what was going on several minutes before the BOLO which gave him a bit of head start. It had taken nearly half an hour to find him and even then, if it hadn't been for the ruckus The Red Hood had caused when he shot up the bakery, it may have taken hours to find him.

He had just called Alfred to let him know that the youngest of their family was safe. The butler's relief had been obvious and he'd hung up the phone shortly after to let Bruce know that Timothy Drake had been rescued and was going to be okay.

There was so much running through his mind, especially as he stared at the brown leather jacket that was now resting on his lap. He'd seen The Red Hood wear it and another jacket, the man often switching between two very different outfits. It was obvious why the killer had gone with this outfit, though. It was the middle of the evening and the sun was high. People were more likely to remember seeing a man in a black white and red jacket flying around with a strange red motorcycle helmet on than they were a guy wearing brown jacket and a red helmet.

How had The Hood even known about Timmy? Was The Hood moving in on The Black Mask next? There were clues to indicate that it was the case when he considered the detective that had been killed as well as several of Mask's known thugs. Maybe he should talk to Bullock, maybe they could even work together to bring the murderous vigilante down in the process of going after Black Mask.

He felt his phone vibrating and frowned when he saw JT's number flash across the screen. He was supposed to meet him for drinks after his shift ended which was seventeen minutes ago. With a sigh he swiped his phone and accepted the call. “Hey, JT.”

“So where do you want to meet? Do you need a shower first?” JT asked casually.

“Oh umm, Tim got kidnapped by Black Mask's men and we're on the way to the hospital. They kept him in a freezer.”

“Jesus, Dick!” JT exclaimed in his ear. “Your family just can't catch a break can it? Is he gonna be alright? Which hospital are you headed to?”

Dick was grateful for the concern he clearly heard in the man's voice and couldn't help but smile. “Same one Bruce is in. We're almost there now so I need to get off the phone, but I'll text you when I can.”

“Fuck that. I'm on my way, okay?” JT hung up before he could argue so he was left with no other option but to put his phone back in his pocket.

When was his family going to catch a break? First JT, then Roy, then Bruce and now Tim. There was so much going on and Dick wasn't entirely sure he could take much more. He wondered if Alfred and Barbara felt the same way. If things kept going the way they were, he wasn't sure everyone would come out in one piece, let alone alive. The Red Hood was getting bolder and the criminals of the city were becoming more violent, more desperate to escape from the vigilantes running around at night and apparently now, the day time.

* * *

 

“Master Richard is on his way to the hospital with Timothy as we speak.” He announced as he hung up the cell phone. “He's suffering from hypothermia but he should be alright.”

Bruce's blue eyes stayed focused and angry as he slowly nodded. Alfred knew that his longtime ward, friend and foster child was seething beneath the surface. Nothing rattled Bruce like when his children were hurt. Normally, he'd be about twenty-five percent more violent during patrols for the next two weeks, but that wasn't an option this time.

“Their next target will be Bennet, especially after their ransom attempt was such a colossal failure.” Bruce warned.

“That makes sense.” Alfred sighed. “They've already gone after him once and from what the police reports suggest, they've started in on members of his construction crew.”

“It might be time for him to close up shop on this reformation project.” The last Wayne frowned. “At least until Dick and Tim can get The Black Mask behind bars.”

“Mr. Bennet is stubborn to a fault, Master Bruce, I think it highly unlikely that he will back down to these domestic terrorists. Even if it's his own life being threatened.” He tried to warn him.

“I've done business with a lot of men and I have to admit, I don't think I've ever met one as foolish or as stubborn.” The younger man scowled. “I can't let him be killed but can Wayne Enterprises really be seen walking away from this project?”

“I believe that is a question best suited for Mr. Fox, Master Bruce.” Alfred smirked. His lips fell however when he noticed that for the eighth time since he'd arrived that Bruce was searching his bed. He furrowed his brows as Bruce seemed to check under his covers for whatever it was he looking for and then all at once, he realized what it had to be! “Something missing?”

The younger looked down sheepishly as he shook his head and then nodded. “I had the strangest dream last night, Alfred and just when I was starting to think it was real, the only proof that it might have been, up and disappeared.”

“Disappeared, Sir?” He knew damned well what Bruce was talking about and this situation was one of the very reasons why Alfred absolutely hated keeping secrets from his family.

“It was a mask, a domino mask.” He whispered more to himself than to Alfred, as he stared up the ceiling. “It was...Jason's.”

“Master Todd?” Alfred feigned shock as he noted the soft tone he used when speaking the boy's name. Guilt sunk his stomach deeper as he tried to ignore the pained expression on Bruce's face.

“Yes.” Bruce nodded. “He was here in the hospital last night. He spoke to me. He told me how angry he was but he also told me other things and then there was the window...something about the window.”

They both looked at the window and Alfred saw it immediately. The screen hadn't been replaced! Had Tim noticed that? Alfred had half a mind to blow Jason's cover if he was going to insist on being so very careless. First the mask and then forgetting to replace the screen in the window? Then again, Jason hadn't denied it when he had accused him of it earlier that very morning.

He ignored his own fears and tried to focus on Bruce and determine what he needed. He couldn't imagine the stress the man felt he was under. His youngest Robin had yet again become injured, he was housing an injured and an estranged side-kick for another vigilante, he was having dreams about Jason Todd and had been since he'd first learned of the tumor, of course he The Red Hood was a big chip on his shoulder and then the Reformation Project and Black Mask's interference.

“I don't think I dreamed it and yet there is no possible way it was real.”

“Perhaps, Master Bruce, your mind is trying to help you let go.” Alfred suggested sadly. “You dwell on him so often and I think there must come a time where you forgive yourself.”

“How can I, Alfred? Look at what's happening to Tim? Dick was nearly killed but he's an adult now. Jason was just a boy and Tim has been seriously injured at least twice this year alone!” Bruce scowled. “I never, ever should have allowed them to follow me.”

Alfred couldn't allow Bruce to think that way. He didn't always like the danger the boys were in either, but he was no happier with Bruce's life on the line. At least with a partner, Batman had proven to be more careful with his own well being. “Nonsense, Master Bruce. If not for you, Dick would have ended up in a foster care home and more than likely would have run away onto the streets. The boy you know and love would have been trampled and destroyed.

“Jason Todd would have either died on the streets from starvation or violence. One way or another his life would have been tragically short, but at least with you he got the chance at something better.

“And as for-

“He got to die a hero.” Bruce whispered as he interrupted Alfred. “He had three years of...”

“Sir?”

“In my dream he told me, he told me that thanks to me he got to die a hero.” It was hard to tell if Bruce was relieved or hurt by the sentiment and once again, Alfred wanted nothing more than to tell him it was true, to tell him that Jason Todd lived and that while they both still had a lot to work through, that the young man didn't hate him. That there was still hope.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation before a short plump nurse entered. “Hello Mr. Wayne, I was asked to inform you that your sons have arrived and the eldest will be up in just a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” Bruce nodded and Alfred knew that their discussion had come to an end, especially when JT Bennet walked in after the nurse only seconds later. He was dressed in jeans and a white button up shirt with a black tie and matching sports coat over the the shirt. “JT, we need to talk.”

“Hey, Bruce. Dick told me what happened and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” JT stated, completely ignoring Bruce's own opening statement.

“I'm fine and from what I understand, Tim will be as well. You, however, may not be.” Bruce frowned as he placed a hand to his head. Alfred wondered if it was from pain or just a way to manipulate JT into giving him his undivided attention. Bruce had always been a master at subtle manipulation.

“What does that mean?” JT snickered. “I'm fine.”

“After a failed attempt to kidnap and ransom my son to me, who do you think his next target will be?” Bruce frowned. “My oldest is a cop, I'm protected in the hospital for the time being, he knows I will hire security to protect Alfred and Tim, so who will he seek next?”

“Maybe if the cops fucking arrested him-

“They don't know who Black Mask is, JT.” Bruce snapped, his tone turning from concerned friend to lecturing parent. “You have to back off this project for a while or hire bodyguards.”

“Fuck that!” JT rolled his eyes. “I am not backing down to this faceless idiot! Maybe that psychotic Hood guy will take the bastard out for us.”

“That is not funny nor is it something you should be joking about.”

“Who said I was joking.” Alfred frowned as JT sneered. “This city is a cesspool and maybe it takes a costumed freak with a gun to clean it up. Clearly the Caped Crusader and his band of-  
“Master Bennet, I think that's quite enough.” Alfred insisted in a grave tone. “Master Bruce is recovering from surgery and his son is in the hospital. He does not need to be getting riled up any further so you will desist at once.”

He was shocked to see JT blush and nod as he rubbed at the back of his head. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne, I uh,” He swallowed and stared at the tile with wide eyes. “I'll look into a security detail.”

The billionaire stared at JT suspiciously, his posture telling Alfred that he had caught something, seen something puzzling. Bruce's cold blue eyes looked him over carefully and then moved to himself as if he were all to aware that something was up. He looked angry, haunted and possibly confused, but thankfully there were no sparks of recognition lighting his face.

Dick burst into the room, still in uniform only moments later. He hugged JT tightly and kissed him softly on the lips before giving all of his attention to Bruce. The first Boy Wonder quickly eased Bruce's fears and assured him of Timothy's safety and of his speedy recovery, promising that he would be released the next morning or afternoon.

“I'll go and check on Master Drake at once, Sir.” Alfred announced. He needed to see for himself and with his own eyes that the young man was really okay and he knew that Bruce needed the same. If he could, he would arrange for Tim to be moved into Bruce's room. It was unlikely that they would do it for just anyone, but considering the vast amount of money held by Bruce, he doubted it would be to hard to arrange.

* * *

 

18:56hrs

 

After spending an uncomfortable hour under Bruce's scrutiny while holding his boyfriend, Jason finally decided it was time to leave. He kissed Dick's forehead and bid Bruce a good night and promised to look into getting a few bodyguards or something. It was a lie of course, but he had to say something to placate the man or he'd never be allowed to leave.

He ran his hands threw his thick black and white hair and walked to the meeting place he'd set up with Detective Bullock on his way home from the hospital. He tried to focus on what the two needed to discuss but his entire body felt jittery and out of control. His hands trembled the entire time he changed into his red, black and white Red Hood suit and his heart fluttered when he had decided on the domino mask over the helmet. He knew he'd feel trapped and claustrophobic in the red helmet so he'd stick to the domino and his own hoodie.

He couldn't believe they'd been on the verge of arguing in that hospital room, falling so easily into old patterns and he wasn't sure if the damage done was irreparable or not. He'd seen the way Bruce stiffened and the way he'd looked him over and then Pennyworth. What had he figured out, if anything at all? Did he suspect?

Fuck! He shouldn't have gone into that room last night! Hell, he shouldn't have visited the hospital at all after what happened to Tim. He pulled his red hood over his hair and tried calm himself down. Tim had been hurt, again, and he couldn't just abandon him to such a terrible fate. If The Red Hood hadn't shot up those men, Dick and the other officers never would have found Tim in time.

“Hey.” He looked up, surprised to see he'd made it the alley so quickly. Detective Bullock looked around nervously and approached. “You, you alright? Did you get shot or something?”

“Or something.” He grunted, deepening his voice a little.

“Where's your helmet thing?”

“Didn't feel like wearing it tonight. Got a problem with that?” Jason snarled.

“Whoa, pal, ease up.” The detective frowned. “I'm on your side, remember?”

He nodded, but kept his face obscured by the shadow his hood was providing. He kept his trembling hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “You find out who's crooked yet?”

“Grayson's looking for the beat cops for me, but as for my end....It's not pretty.” Harvey sighed as he pulled out a few pictures from the inside pocket of his long gray duster. “Two newly promoted detectives and one senior homicide detective.”

Jason's eyes narrowed angrily as he looked over the pictures of the three cops. One woman, two men. He'd start watching them as soon as possible and determine if they were on Black Mask's payroll willingly or through coercion of some kind, though it was unlikely that either reason would spare them from his hateful wrath.

“What do you know about them? Off the top of your head.”

“I don't know much about the rookies, but Detective Hayes? She's a real bitch.” The older man admitted. “No kids, no partner, no significant other that any of us are aware of. Rumor is she slept her way through most of the promotions but Internal Affairs has been watching her for years.”

“Why?”

“People say she accepts bribes to destroy evidence but there's never been any proof.”

“Meaning she has dirt on anyone who could destroy her career? What about Gordon, what's he think of her?”

“Can't stand her, but his hands are tied since again, there's nothing on her. She's smart in a stupid way. Covers her tracks just well enough to keep her out of trouble, but is too stupid to stay above suspicion.” Harvey frowned.

“No. It's not stupidity, it's advertisement.” Jason countered. “She's making it clear to bad men that her silence and assistance are for sale.”

“Are...are you gonna kill these guys?” Harvey frowned.

“Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Detective.” He answered ominously.

He watched the cop carefully, waiting to see how he would react. Would he pull his gun and try to arrest him? Would he do nothing at all? Even cops like Harvey could be all talk when they said they wanted their force cleaned up. It was entirely possible that their partnership was about to dissolve.

“Look, I may not be a good cop on the best of days, and you and I both know that I haven't always been on the up and up.” Harvey spoke softly but firmly. “Why not kill me, too if that's your plan?”

“I have my reasons, Detective.” He couldn't tell him the truth. He couldn't tell him it was because Harvey Bullock saved his life once when he was wearing a very different costume or that he'd always admired his no non-sense way of dealing with criminals. He also couldn't tell him that he used to have something of an odd crush on him either. “If they haven't murdered anyone, or if there is any possibility that they can become better, like there was with you, then I'll leave them to be arrested.”

He could see the man's shoulders relax a bit as he nodded. “Thank you, uh, Hood, I guess?” He looked at the ground for a moment and then smirked. “You know, saving that Wayne kid was a big deal. The press conference was insane.”

“What's your point?”

“Play it up. You want this city's criminal element to fear you, I get that, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to get the citizens of Gotham City on your side, too.”

“I'm not Batman,” Jason glared.

“That's for sure.” Harvey rolled his eyes. “Just think about it.”

“If the criminals think I am out there rescuing people they'll believe that innocents are a weakness, Detective.”

“Are they?”

“Of course.” He nodded once. “Which is why I can't ever allow that to be known or every night someone will grab a hostage or stage something really elaborate and endanger more people.”

The relief in Harvey's bright eyes was enough to ease Jason out of his poor mood. As a man and a cop Harvey had grown a lot more than his superiors probably realized. That he was worried about The Red Hood's violence and potential to harm innocents was a clear indication that if Jason ever did get out of control, Bullock would turn on him for the right reasons. Not that he really needed to worry about that. Jason would never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it.

Oh yeah? Then what the fuck was Roy Harper? He frowned at the traitorous tone of his own mind and shook it off. Roy Harper knew what the Hell he was getting himself into and he shouldn't have interfered. He got what he deserved and he refused to be sorry for what had happened to him.

“Good. Look, I get that you are going to do what needs to be done and I suppose I understand that you'd rather people not know about what happened, but uh- Oh, hold on.” Harvey pulled out his buzzing cell phone and answered the call. “This is Bullock, what have you got for me?” He paled. “What? Yeah okay. I'm on my way.”

“What is it?” Jason inquired as soon as he hung up.

“You ever hear of a masked vigilante by the name of Spoiler?” Harvey asked as he started heading out of the alley toward his car.

“Yeah, she's been hunting down Riddler and an old associate of his named Cluemaster.” He shrugged. “Why?”

“She snuck up on some of Riddler's men and thinking it was...” The Detective sighed and looked at ground as he stopped walking. “Thinking it was you, they shot on sight. Turns out she's a fifteen year old girl named Stephanie Brown, or well, she was.”

Jason stopped short in his tracks and his breath hitched. A fifteen year old girl was dead? Because of him? He nodded numbly as Harvey assured him that police had the shooter in custody after finding him and two others trying to hide the gun. He let the detective leave as he stepped back against one of the buildings.

When he was sure that the detective was gone, he pulled his hood off and dropped to his ass. He let the pain and anger rip through him as he clenched his teeth and tightened his fists. The urge to find the car the man was being transported to jail in was strong, but he'd never come out of that alive. The police would fill him full of lead before he was able to get his hands on him.

Batman was as bad an influence on the youth of Gotham, of that his guilt could be eased. He didn't have to blame himself for the girl dressing up and fighting crime, but what he did have to blame himself for, was the level of violence she'd run into. Criminals all over were afraid of losing their lives and while that would frighten some out of the behavior, clearly, others had a different way of dealing with the threat he presented.

Anger and rage blurred his vision as he got back to his feet. A fifteen year old girl, shot and killed in his city for trying to help clean it up. This was not going to be ignored. He let the hatred he felt for the out of control monsters of Gotham burn through him. This day was coming to a close but there was still plenty of time to paint the city red in the blood of the criminal element.

* * *

 

2200 hrs

 

“Tonight, Gotham is at war.” Anchorman Donald Troy announced dramatically as he looked into the camera. The handsome man in his mid forties with graying brown hair and dark eyes had a somber expression as he read from the teleprompter. “Recent killings by the masked vigilante known as The Red Hood have increased over the past week with no night deadlier than this night. Here with more details is field reporter Sandy Bowers.”

The screen switched from the live coverage of the anchor to the earlier recorded image of a Gotham street with dozens of police standing around cordoned off area. The firm voice of the reporter narrated as the images continued to change to show more of the crime scene, including two body bags being loaded into the coroner's van on gurneys.

“Another sign and another cryptic message left behind by the deadliest vigilante that Gotham has ever known. Tonight sees the end of Crime Lords Arthur Brown known as Cluemaster and Edward Nigma known as Riddler. Both men were found beaten and bloodied with multiple stab wounds that are believed to have taken their lives. The cardboard sign reads: Your Reign Of Terror Ends With Her Blood. -TRH

“And who is “Her” referring to? It's believed by Detective Harvey Bullock and the GCPD to refer to Stephanie Brown, the fifteen year old daughter of Arthur Brown and the identity of the slain vigilante Spoiler. Just this evening the young woman was allegedly shot and killed by Devon Rogers, one of Riddler's known associates.”

The screen finally showed Sandy Bowers as she approached Detective Bullock, his name and information appearing on the bottom of the screen along with a message also stating that it had been recorded earlier. “Tell me, Detective Bullock, what was the motivation behind tonight's acts? Is it possible that Spoiler was killed because the men in question believed she was actually The Red Hood?”

Harvey stared into the camera, a scowl on his scruffy face. “At this time the investigation is ongoing and anything said about the motivation of either The Red Hood or Riddler's men is purely speculation at this point. It would be irresponsible to claim that Rogers allegedly received orders from his boss to kill Ms. Brown after finding out her identity as Spoiler. Just as it would be irresponsible to claim that The Red Hood went after the young lady's father and his partner for having her executed.”

The screen then switched to another crime scene with Commissioner Gordon and his officers along with more body bags. “That wasn't all that happened tonight. Detective Jackie Hayes of the GCPD along with seven men were found tied together, lifeless.

“It wasn't even an hour later before police were called to the scene that held yet another calling card that claimed You Will Be Held To Your Oaths Or Your Blood Will Spill Alongside The Scum Of This City. -TRH. With the sign placed in the arms of Detective Jackie Hayes it is all too obvious what and who the vigilante is referring to.

“When questioned, Commissioner Gordon had this to say.” Sandy Bowers stated before the screen changed to the older man with his name and title at the bottom of the screen.

“We are not inclined to comment on the death of Detective Hayes at this time. All that can be said is that this kind of vigilantism is not acceptable in my city. Citizen are never to take their law in to the hands. This man is not a hero. He is a serial killer who is as dangerous as the very men and women he claims to be protecting this city from. If anyone knows anything about the identity of the vigilante known as The Red Hood we strongly urge you to call us immediately. This man cannot be allowed to play judge, jury and executioner.”

“Commissioner Gordon what do you say to the allegations that the police are simply not doing enough to catch The Red Hood or that they are in fact helping him as has often been suspected of their support for Batman?”

“That's absolutely ludicrous. We are doing everything we can to capture The Red Hood. Now if you'll excuse me I have an investigation to conduct.” With that, the commissioner abruptly walked out of view of the camera.

Once more Sandy Bowers moved to the center of the screen. “The seven men have not yet been identified but one anonymous source insists that all work for the gun and narcotics dealer, Black Mask. Black Mask has yet to be identified and has been running amok in Gotham for the past year.

“During an earlier broadcast this evening it was reported that The Red Hood attacked a bakery where five of Black Mask's men were discovered, along with the kidnapped Timothy Drake who is the adopted son and heir of billionaire Bruce Wayne and slain GCPD officer, James Spencer. Officer Spencer was the first to arrive on scene even before the vigilante and reported that shots were being fired by the men. Thanks to the widely different caliber of bullet found in Officer Spencer, police were able to rule out The Red Hood has killer.

“With all three crime scenes combined, The Red Hood's count for the night ends at a staggering fifteen dead. With so many killed and many more wounded by the serial killer over the past six months it leaves many wondering why Batman and the GCPD have not stopped this man? Reporting for Gotham City News Network, this is Sandy Bowers.”

Timothy turned the television off as he pulled his phone out. Bruce was sleeping soundly thanks to the drugs in his system in the bed beside him. Alfred had left for the night and Dick was at the station filling out paperwork and reports. It was the perfect time to finally pull up the app that connected him to his computer at home.

He quickly found what he needed and saw that the DNA results had finally posted. Taking a deep breath he tapped the message. Gasping in alarm at the impossibility before him, Tim looked to his father and then back to the black screen of the television. “Jason Todd, what have you become?” He whispered to himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not positive when the next chapter will be up with the move. It is my intent to make sure the computer is the last thing packed and the first unpacked, but I can't guarantee when these changed will take place as it depends on when the house sells. What I can promise is that this fic is not going to be abandoned and that I will continue writing it, so please keep reading it and don't forget about me if I can't post for another month or so. I sincerely hope that's not the case, but I don't want to promise something and then end up a liar again. So yeah. I'll update as often and as soon as I can. Thanks so much for your continued support and your awesome comments! You guys rock!


	25. What Goes Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, I'm really nervous about this, but I hope you love it anyhow. If the flow is off, I apologize. Normally I sit down and have a chapter written in one or two sessions, but with the move, my sessions are significantly shorter and more sporadic. So also forgive the typos. If any are super bad, please let me know. You'll notice I am getting a lot more specific with where and when things are taking place, this is because things are starting to happen faster and often times during the same day and I want you all to know exactly where we are since my skills at description are lacking.  
> Thanks again for all of the wonderful comments and reviews. You guys are awesome and have been so patient with me so please...stay patient! LOL.

Chapter 25

 

March 2nd

0800 hrs

GCPD – Gordon's Office

 

Fifteen dead. Fifteen fucking dead. He couldn't believe it and yet, he couldn't find it within himself to regret his actions thus far. In an odd way it made sense. Fifteen dead. One thug to represent each year Stephanie Brown had lived. When he thought of it like that, it made him angry that she hadn't lived long enough to make the kill count higher.

It felt at times as if Gotham was in her death throes. When masked men and women were the city's only hope, he sometimes wondered why he bothered going into work at all. His city was falling apart all around him and there were so many wounds, so many bullets he'd taken metaphorically as well as physically and he just didn't know if he had it in him to keep fighting.

“Bullock! My office, now!” Commissioner Gordon shouted as soon he'd sat down at his desk.

He wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he didn't. Instead he rolled his eyes and got back on his feet and headed into the office where an Internal Affairs officer, his Captain and of course the Commissioner were all seated. Were they about to fire him? No way they needed that much brass unless it was to do something drastic, but then if that was the case where was the union rep?

“What's the problem, Gordon?” he demanded as he took the only available seat.

“That stunt you pulled during your interview is what's up.” The Captain growled angrily. He was an intimidating man with a height of well over six feet. The black man was in good shape and carried himself far better than any past Captain had. He ate healthy and often criticized Harvey for being such a slob all the time, but at least he'd been an honest cop. The last few Captains they had were all bought and paid for by some crime family or another.

“Stunt?” He feigned innocence, though not at all convincingly.

“Knock it off, Bullock, you know what he's talking about.” Jim wasn't a bad guy either. They'd been through a lot together and he couldn't help but feel a little bad for making his life harder. Unless he was about to fire him. Then he could just deal with it.

“Detective Bullock,” The Internal Affairs officer smiled condescendingly and woman or not, he wanted to knock her teeth out. She was older, hardened by the job with deep worry lines in her face and graying brown hair. She was dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt and wore no jewelry. Her shoes were black, leather and looked comfortable, but sturdy. He could tell right away that this was a woman who lived by the rules. No chance she was dirty. “it was quite obvious to your co-workers, your captain and even the commissioner that you were defending the vigilante known as The Red Hood.”

“Is that so?” Harvey's eyes leveled a murderous glare on Commissioner Gordon. The man had the decency to maintain eye contact with him. “So you think my comments were made to protect that psychopath instead of condemning that coward Nigma for having a fifteen year old kid killed?”

“The shooter originally claimed that he thought it was The Hood coming to get him.” The Captain responded. “That it turned out to be a hit was not at all implied and should not have been released to the public until it was confirmed.”

“It was confirmed!” Harvey shouted, making the IA jump. Maybe she wasn't so tough after all? “The shooter's two accomplices rolled on him in my interrogation room and he admitted to it being a hit before Riddler and Cluemaster were found!”

“And you felt the need to announce that to a reporter?” The woman asked.

“I felt the need to set the record straight for once. Half the damned problem with this city is the fucking media getting it wrong and spreading lies unchecked. Well that shit ends with me!” What was he thinking? Did he want to be fired? Because if he kept on like that, they'd have no choice but to terminate him if they weren't going to already. “The Hood's a piece of shit, ain't nobody arguing that least of all me, but to say that kid was killed because they thought it was him was an insult to her and her memory. Her mother deserved to know the truth, not some media controlled lie being spread by this office to frighten off future vigilantes.”

“How dare you!” The Captain shouted. “You really think we were responsible for the evening news' report?”

“You certainly didn't correct it!” He snapped back.

“We weren't aware of the story they were running, but at the time that is exactly what we knew and it is not within your scope of training to correct the media, Detective.” The Captain lectured as his volume dropped considerably. “We have public relations officers who deal with the media, not you!”  
“Well they ain't doing their job either!” Harvey argued.

“Detective, Captain; that's enough.” Jim interrupted before the Captain could counter. “Your captain and Internal Affairs have requested that you be punished for your behavior and with you sitting here arguing without any remorse whatsoever you are effectively tying my hands on this one, Harvey.”

“How long?” He demanded.

“Two weeks.” The Captain answered.

“I want my union rep, here now.” Harvey smirked as he crossed his arms. “Cause I'm pretty sure that I didn't do anything wrong.”

“Are you seriously going to appeal this?” The woman gasped.

“You're damned straight, I am.” He stood from his chair and looked at Gordon. “I'll see you when the rep arrives. I can't believe you even attempted this disciplinary meeting without my representative here.”

“An oversight that won't be repeated again in the future, I assure you.” Jim smirked and all at once Harvey understood. “Nor will the oversight of allowing you to be interviewed by any of the reporters for GCNN without public relations on site.”

That crazy idiot had given him a stay of execution! He'd purposefully allowed this meeting to go awry without a union representative so that he couldn't be suspended right away, if at all. Once the the man did arrive it was possible that they'd be so outraged by not being contacted that they could get the offense whittled down to a minor punishment; possibly nothing at all. Something Jim Gordon definitely knew. With a subtle nod to the commissioner he made a quick escape before either the Captain or IA could figure out what Gordon had done. Either way, he was happy because it meant the bastard had sided with him.

* * *

 

March 2nd

0953 hrs

Wayne Manor

 

It was nearly nine o' clock in the morning before Timothy Drake was finally released from the hospital. He'd checked and double checked the results on his phone and still hadn't been able to get anything different out of it. He'd wanted to tell Bruce about it, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew what he knew. He had his own investigation to conduct which would really be more of a review of the evidence they had on The Red Hood so far.

When and only when he was sure would he inform Dick and Bruce of his results. What if he was a clone? Lex Luthor had proven it more than possible given the right motivation. Could he be from an alternate universe? Would their DNA be different in a way he and his machines couldn't detect? He'd have to ask Barry Allen or Wally West about that since they had far more experience dealing with doppelgangers than the Bat clan. Either way, he had to be sure that Jason Todd was actually their Jason Todd in every sense of the word before he destroyed his brother and father's view of the fallen hero.

Honestly he hadn't wanted to believe it either. Jason Todd had been Robin when he was a child, the Robin he wanted so badly to become. He was tough, cool, and strong. The second Robin had been a force to be reckoned with and while he wasn't nearly as acrobatic as the first or funny, he'd been a roaring ball of passion.

How could he have become the monster they were hunting? How could he have become the very animal that had killed him? And yet he couldn't deny how much sense it made. Calling him replacement, refusing to make good on his threats to kill the Bat Clan should they interfere in his work. Hell, The Red Hood had rescued him not once, not twice, but three times now! Why? Why hadn't he hurt him the way he'd hurt Harper?

Actually, that was just as good a question as any; why had he hurt Harper? He tried to think back to what he knew of the Teen Titans. Roy, Dick and Wally had always been close. Closer than any other members of the Teen Titans as far as he knew. Jason Todd had briefly been a part of their team but it hadn't lasted long. Connor told him it was because no one trusted him.

Come to think of it, Jason's short stint with the Teen Titans hadn't produced very friendly reviews of him. Even Alfred and Bruce had been disappointed when none of the Titans appealed to Dick and Roy on his behalf. Connor didn't like him at all despite acknowledging that their temperament was very similar.

“Master Drake, are you alright?” Alfred asked as they pulled into the garage. “You seem rather, distracted this morning.”

“I'm fine. There's just something I need to verify.”

“It seems to me there's something you'd like to talk with someone about.” Yes, but not Alfred. Tim sighed internally. Alfred loved Jason Todd, had the most positive things to say about him and he spent the most time with the second Robin once it became clear that public school wasn't an option for the unruly teenager. He couldn't tell the old man that one of the boys he'd raised had become a monster, and yet...

If anyone knew Jason Todd well enough to verify if it was a clone or a fake, wouldn't Alfred be the one? Clones didn't have old memories, clones couldn't fake a history and if he was an alternate universe version of himself or even Jason from another time line, Alfred would certainly know it. He'd know it better than anyone else.

“Master Drake?” Alfred tried again.

“I think The Red Hood is Jason Todd.” He blurted.

“What on Earth has brought you to that conclusion?” Alfred frowned, but strangely, Tim noted that he didn't seem too surprised.

“I found a domino mask in Bruce's hand and it was Jason's.”

“He might have brought it with him from the case.” Alfred shrugged.

“No, it wasn't his broken mask and that's still in the case.” Tim explained. “Also, when I was holding it in my hand I realized it was still tacky from spirit gum. There were several eyebrow hairs and even some skin stuck to the mask and I did a DNA test.”

“Oh dear.” Alfred frowned as he killed the engine to the car. “And the results are accurate, you're sure?”

“Positive. I mean, I'm about to check the equipment personally, but everything was running fine and if there had been more than one person's DNA on the mask you know it would come up as inconclusive. Honestly, this makes perfect sense, Alfred.” Tim sighed as he got of out the car. “He moves like a Robin, he's trained like a Robin and he knows who everyone of us are. Roy, Barbara, you, me, Dick and Bruce! He knows all the crime bosses and the nut-jobs in our city and he knows the Burrows better than any of us do. His knowledge is too intimate for it to be anyone else.”

As the two walked into the house and down to Tim's small lab, he was pleased to see that the older butler wasn't cracking under the strain of his accusation. It meant he either didn't believe it, or was processing it slowly. He could work with either.

“Master Drake, if you truly believe this, then why didn't you say anything to Master Bruce?” The man asked as Tim quickly set to looking over the equipment.

“Just in case, I guess.” Tim sighed. “What if it's one of those alternate universe guys and he doesn't know the havoc he's wreaking? What if he doesn't know he's Jason Todd? What if The League brainwashed him and he doesn't recall his actual past with us? There's so many variables that until I even know for certain that he's truly our Jason Todd, I'd only be injuring Dick and Bruce.

“If he's not ours and they try to treat him like he is, it could get someone killed. Worse...God, Alfred. If it is our Jason Todd, what does that mean? What's he become? Why has he become it and how do we deal with him?”

The old man's eyes appeared wet as he nodded. “Let's take a look at your evidence, then. You and I will get to the bottom of this.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Tim smiled.

 

* * *

 

March 2nd

0930 hrs

The Hospital

 

“Hey, Big Guy.” Dick smiled as he walked into his hospital room. He'd been waiting for the arrival of his oldest ward but he hadn't been looking forward to it. There was a lot to discuss and he had to tread carefully. “You aren't looking so hot, should I call the nurse?”

“No, no. I'm just worried is all.”

“Worried? About what? Timothy? After that attack, Black Mask won't try anything like that again. He took quite a hit last night. Thirteen of his men are dead.”

“Yes, I saw that, but the number appears to have gone up over the night.” Bruce frowned as he looked up at his muted television. There was panic all around the newsrooms as they continued to report on the fifteen men who'd died all at the hands of The Red Hood. Late, late into the night the killings apparently continued and the count had officially ended at twenty one.

“I looked everywhere, B. I couldn't find him, I couldn't keep up with him.” Dick's shoulders fell as did the soft smile on his face. He looked pained and Bruce hadn't intended that. “I'm sorry.”

“This isn't about blame, Dick. You did what you could.” He needed to get to the real point, the real reason he'd called his son to him. “Have you spoken to JT, Dick?”

“Umm, no actually and I'm kind of worried. Since he left the hospital yesterday I haven't been able to reach him by phone or text and then when The Hood went on the war path I couldn't stop by and actually check on him.”

“Does he do that often?” Bruce asked curiously.

“Well, no. I mean, maybe once or twice, but he's pretty busy.” Dick shrugged. “I'm sure he's fine, Bruce.”

“I called you here to talk to you about that. I want you to be a lot more...alert when you are around him.” Bruce finally stated.

“What? Why?”

“Yesterday I warned him that he was the next likely target of Black Mask and he laughed it off. I had to twist his arm to get him to agree to looking into security and even then I know he lied to get me off his back.”

Dick's brow knitted in confusion. “Why wouldn't he want the security? He knows how dangerous the man is! He nearly killed him.”

“That's what has me so concerned. He didn't even flinch at the name. He didn't pale, he didn't shiver, he didn't even react. It was as if he had no fear of the man.”

He could tell right away that Dick wasn't going to make the connection. The officer shrugged and laughed. It was typical behavior of JT Bennet and wasn't at all that odd according to him. Dick had definitely been in the superhero business to long. He didn't remember what it was like for normal people to encounter traumatic events. Everyday citizens, like JT Bennet claimed to be, didn't ignore very real threats to their lives. They reacted, they felt fear and they did anything they could do avoid being placed in another life and death situation.

“You don't find it odd that he shows absolutely no fear? It's not as if he were trained to endure trauma or deal with men like Black Mask on a regular basis.”

“But that's just it, Bruce. He's never shown fear. He fights with Black Mask's guys when they bother his workers, he didn't even panic when he realized that Bullock's partner was a mole for...” There was the moment. Dick's black brows furrowed as his blue eyes widened. Finally, he understood that his boyfriend's behavior wasn't at all normal.

Bruce took a breath. “I don't know what that means, but it has me concerned, Dick.” He admitted. “He could suffer Oppositional Defiance Disorder, a mental illness that often involves a lack of normal fears, he could have been traumatized as a child and simply processes things differently, but whatever the case may be, his life is in danger.”

“God, maybe I should stop by his place while I'm patrolling, make sure that he's okay.” Dick frowned as he looked toward the door, his body language tense and yet jittery. His first Robin always needed to move in some form or another. He was just too hyper to control the energy that coursed through him. “What if, what if Black Mask got him...

“I doubt that's the case. Perhaps you should stop by his office. He might be at work.” Bruce suggested, but there was more to it than he wanted to explain to Dick. Fact of the matter was, JT was hiding something, something that he was pretty sure he'd discovered during his visit yesterday. “Just keep in contact, Dick. I don't want any of you taking risks. The Red Hood has upped his game and he's very dangerous as it is, but after that girl's death...”

“I understand.” Dick nodded. “So basically, I need to be watching out for Black Mask and The Red Hood. Two murderers who don't like me or Tim.”

“When you go on your patrols tonight I'll be with you on comms. I want you to have an extra set of eyes out there. Barbara will be available, as will Alfred, but you two have to be very careful. The Red Hood has this entire city's criminals on edge and probably more than a little trigger happy.” Bruce warned as his eyes flicked toward the TV. A bulletin was running across the screen.

He turned the TV up with his bed remote and Dick turned to face the screen as well. “Thanks Donald,” Sandy Bowers was standing at another crime-scene, this time live. The wind was blowing gently at her light brown hair. “I'm standing in the middle of yet another crime scene where a ruthless gang of young men known as the Gotham City Killerz found themselves the victims of The Red Hood....”

* * *

 

0945 hrs

Crime Alley

 

Jason stumbled into the small hideout in a dilapidated building. His face was completely exposed which prevented him from returning to the luxurious penthouse he was supposed to be staying in. The helmet he'd lost when he had to self destruct it while fighting seven men and the female detective he'd killed the night before. His domino had lasted for most of the night but ultimately he'd had to pocket it when blood kept dripping over the lenses, making it difficult to see. He was completely drenched in sweat and blood and wasn't sure just how much of either body fluid was his own.

All he knew for certain was that it was freezing and he'd been damned sloppy the night before as well as this morning. The killing spree he'd gone on in the name of every innocent teenager of Gotham City had resulted in twenty-nine casualties. Twenty-nine. No wonder he was so fucking tired. He just needed to rest, needed to find out what was hurt and get himself cleaned up. Then he could sleep.

He walked through the tidy though run down apartment and turned on the small radio with his left hand. He was still hanging onto something in his right but he didn't care enough to look or take notice. The local news was playing which meant Sandy Bower's snobby voice was echoing through the room as she spun the tragic tale of the Gotham City Killerz. Fucking punks. They hadn't known who he was, couldn't have possibly known. Sure he was wearing the same jacket and tactical pants, but he'd ditched the knees pads and the guns in a different hide out on his way toward home. He couldn't really run around in broad daylight dressed as his alter ego.

The Gotham City Killerz had always been on his short list, but he'd never found the time to locate them. So as he had walked down the streets toward this hideout, blood dripping down his face and hands, the eight young killers made the mistake of believing him an easy target. They assumed he'd been beaten bloody by someone else.

So they did what they did best. They approached their intended target to mug and kill them. That was how they operated the vicious little fucks. They never let their victims live. Didn't matter how old or young, how weak or feeble. They didn't do it kindly either. The Killerz beat their victims to death with bats, pipes, crow bars....And that had really been what snapped him back to reality.

The one with the bat had caught him off guard, got a good hit on him and made him more than a little dizzy. He might not have been able to call on his reserves to fight them off, but when he heard that hooked metal bar smack the open palm and insane laughter ring through his ears, his blood boiled with renewed energy. He'd lunged and taken hold of the crow bar and bashed the kid's head wide open. With a ferocity he never thought he'd be able to feel after such a long day and night he took all eight young adults out of the gene pool and left them a bloody fucking mess. They were all killers, everyone of them. He felt no remorse. Not for those little bastards who would have turned him into human pulp just for the fun of it.

He shivered as he looked down and saw the crow bar still in his right hand. He dropped it with a gasp and stepped backward. The clanging sound the object made when it hit the floor nearly threw him back into the horrific memories of the day he died. The Joker had tossed it to the side carelessly, as if it hadn't just broken the body of a fifteen year old boy.

“NO!” He raged as he kicked the bar. He would not do this to himself. He would not remember. He wouldn't. He would not relive that night ever again! Not if he had a choice and he wasn't asleep so it was his choice.

After several deep breaths he started stripping out of his clothing. He was covered in bruises, that much he could feel. There were a few shallow scrapes and one or two gashes here and there but nothing to be concerned over. Another deep breath and he brought his ungloved hands to his head and gently felt for cuts. There was a long one, at least three inches long, that had been the one that kept bleeding into his mask. He would have to rinse off and superglue it closed.

His muscles screamed their exhaustion as he forced himself to stretch while he pulled off the last of his clothing. He grabbed a black towel from the cupboard in the bathroom and started the shower. It would take at least five minutes to heat up in this shit-hole, so he took out the first aid kit and started to clean up the wounds he could see.

Despite the fighting, there were no bruises on his face, at least nothing that Dick would notice. Hell, except for the cut in his hair, he'd done a much better job protecting his core and his head. All the cuts and gashes were primarily on his arms and legs. Once he glued the cut in his head shut he let it sit a few second and then jumped into the piss warm shower.

It took nearly thirty minutes for him to feel clean and even then he remained under the water an additional fifteen minutes. After the shower he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from a banged up dresser in the bedroom. He needed to get to work as soon as possible or someone would notice that JT Bennet went missing at the same time The Red Hood came out to play. It was already a risk and once again he found himself contemplating Alfred's question.

Did he want to be caught?

“God yes.” He whispered to himself. “I'm so tired.”

No! None of that shit. You made promises, asshole. You have to clean up these streets, you have to find Killer Croc, you have to take down Black Mask once and for all and when that's all said and done, you have to get the Clown, hopefully while he's still in Arkham. So none of this 'I'm so tired' bullshit. You can sleep when you're dead.

After the pep talk which had to prove he'd lost his mind, Jason tossed his clothes in the washer and hid the crowbar under his mattress. It wasn't like anyone would go up to the apartment, especially since no one lived in it, but he couldn't risk it just lying on the floor. Besides, it was an inanimate object, it couldn't hurt him without someone else's hand wielding it. Better to keep it close than let someone find it as the sole murder weapon against the Killerz.

 

* * *

 

1215 hrs

Bennet Construction Job Site

 

When Dick approached the secretary she blushed when she looked up at him. “Mr. Grayson, I mean Officer Grayson, how are you?” He smiled politely which seemed to fluster the young lady even more. “M-Mr. Bennet's just inside his office. You're welcome to go in.”

He nodded gratefully and headed in, happy to get away from the practically drooling secretary. What he saw upon entering JT's office threw him for a loop. JT was dead to the world, snoring with his arms crossed over his stomach, his head tilted all the way back as he slept, his mouth hanging open. Dick wanted to laugh, especially since he'd never seen JT look so out of his element. Surely, he'd be embarrassed to know someone, anyone had seen him like that.

Taking advantage of his sleep, Dick inspected him closely, giving himself a moment to really think about who and what this man was. What kind of baggage came with being legally dead by the hands of your own father? Was that why JT didn't fear Black Mask? Bruce insisted he hadn't been traumatized enough to shrug off such encounters without something being wrong with him, but wasn't that enough? Then again, Bruce probably didn't know that about JT. He doubted the young CEO brought it up to just anyone.

Today, JT wore a pair of dark wash jeans, a white thermal long sleeved shirt and a Megadeth T-shirt over it. His work boots were freshly caked with mud, which meant he'd been out on the site. He had a small cut on his hand, but it was easily dismissed as a work injury. He had a black hoodie, the same one the young mad had worn when they first met, hanging off the back of his chair. His hair was unkempt and getting a little long, the white streak contrasting sharply with the rest of his black tresses.

“JT?” He called softly. “JT?”

He woke with a start, getting to his feet with wild teal eyes widened in fear, the chair rolling back into the wall loudly. His fists were clenched and he was in a stance a little too reminiscent of a fighting stance. He blinked once, twice, and then shook his head. “Dick?”  
“Are you alright, JT?” It was an odd reaction, one that should have disturbed Dick, but once again, all he could think of was the young man's past. The one he'd told him in confidence. Bruce was wrong. JT was afraid, he just hid it better than most.

“Uh, yeah. I'm fine. What are you doing here?” He grumbled sleepily.

“Checking on you. I haven't heard from you since you left the hospital last night and after everything that happened with Tim, I was afraid Black Mask had you again.” He admitted

“Oh, umm.” JT frowned and blinked before giving his head another shake. “Shit. You wanna get some food. I'm fucking starved.”

Dick chuckled and nodded. “You look exhausted, something happen last night?”

“I pulled an all-nighter. Couldn't sleep. Just kept working.” He shrugged. “Don't have a lot of guys right now so I thought I'd make up for it.”

“That's incredibly stupid and dangerous,” Dick frowned. “you could have gotten yourself killed and no one would have known until they showed up for work the next day.”

“What's it matter when they show up if I killed myself? Dead is dead. Showing up within minutes versus hours doesn't change a fucking thing.” he replied irritably as he pulled the hoodie on and then hissed in pain.

When JT's head popped through he caught sight of blood dripping down his head at the top of his hair line. “Did something fall on you last night?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Fell hard and busted my head open. I glued it though.”

With an exasperated sigh Dick moved over to him and gently took his face into his hands. JT grumbled but tilted his head down so that Dick could take a look. The cut was open near one end and looked red and angry as it started to bleed. The rest of the cut was held firmly together by the superglue. He knew the glue should have held which meant it was sloppily applied and JT had probably missed the last half inch of the cut.

“You missed a spot.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Got any more?”

Without responding, JT walked back to the other side of his desk and fished around one of the drawers until he found what he was looking for. He sat on the front of his desk, settled between the furniture and Dick and dropped his head as he handed over the glue. Dick couldn't help the smile that formed on his face as he opened the glue and applied it properly to the wound.

“You are impossible, JT.”

“Whatever.” He yawned.

“Should you even be working? Why don't I take you back to the penthouse and you get some real sleep in a real bed.” He suggested as he took the man's hand, tossing the glue on top of the desk.

“You gonna sleep with me?” He grinned.

“No. I just came to get some lunch with you, but I think it's more important that you get your ass in bed.” Dick laughed. “You're gonna get yourself killed running on empty like this.”

“You wanna get some dinner tonight?” JT asked. “Or I could cook for you.”

“Only if you go home and sleep until I come by.”

“Fine but on the way over I want something to eat. Gonna throw up if I don't eat something.” JT agreed.

* * *

 

1830 hrs

Wayne Manor

 

There was nothing more he could do. Tim had spoken with Barry Allen over the phone for nearly two hours confirming that the DNA test would be altered enough that it would not have given him a match had it been a Jason Todd from another timeline or alternate universe. Though Tim had used the name John Doe so as not to alert the Justice League before Bruce could be told. None the less, it was settled. Timothy Drake knew that The Red Hood was in fact Jason Peter Todd. Only one question remained for the young man and he insisted that would be harder to prove.

“It has to be a clone, Alfred.” Tim sighed from the desk in his lab. “I mean, Jason would never do anything like this, would he?”

“Master Drake, if it was a clone, he could not have possibly retained memories he did not have. His training, his knowledge of everyone's true identities, as well as his comfort with Gotham City and it's streets? There's no way for him to have it.”

“Lex Luthor is a cunning man. Isn't it at all possible he figured out a way to keep memories?” Tim countered.

“Possible, but unlikely.” Alfred shook his head. He may have promised to help keep Jason's secrets, but he wasn't going to purposely steer his family down the wrong path, especially if it was a path that could cause them to confront a man as dangerous, untrustworthy, and sleazy as Lex Luthor. “I know that you don't want it to be him anymore than I do, Master Drake, but I think we both know the truth.”

“So then what happened to him?” Tim frowned, his blue eyes falling to the floor. “Why is he this monster? Have you heard the news? Over the past twenty-four hours he killed twenty-nine people. He murdered twenty-nine men and women.”

“I imagine the answers are no easier than the questions themselves.” Alfred frowned.

“We have to tell Dick and Bruce, but I don't know how. How do we walk up to them and tell them that the kid they knew and loved has turned into a psychopath?” Tim looked miserable as he plopped down into his chair. “Bruce needs to heal and rest, but if he knows that The Red Hood is Jason Todd, he'll hurt himself and Dick? Dick will collapse in on himself. He'll be just as bad as Bruce and he'll get killed out there.”

Alfred wanted to argue with the young man, but he was right. If Bruce knew, he wouldn't stay in the hospital, let alone his bed. Dick would go out of his mind searching everywhere for Jason and while that might not end in the way Tim imagined, it would end just as terribly once he realized that the man he'd fallen in love with was not only a serial killer, but his own adopted brother. Neither man would react well.

“We can't tell them yet, Alfred. We just can't. Not until Bruce is better, not until they can help each other get through the pain.” Tim frowned and shivered a little. “This is going to be a big secret, but it has to be done. Please, Alfred? Please help me keep this from them, just until Bruce is back in action?”

With a heavy sigh, Alfred nodded. “Under one condition, Master Drake.”

“What's that?”

“You must swear to me that you won't go looking for him or trying to find him. Clearly he's unstable and we don't know what he may do if he realizes his cover has been blown.”

* * *

 

19:05 hrs

Bruce's Hospital Room

 

Bruce frowned as he looked at the pictures and the images that Barbara had brought to him. He set them down and then watched the video feeds on the tablet she'd handed him. The top of the screen was The Red Hood walking toward Ryan Murphy and on the bottom screen of the tablet was JT Bennet walking into the conference room where he and Lucious were waiting.

“It's identical.” He frowned.

“After you told me to look everything over again while taking in to account the methods of the League of Assassin's, everything fits together. The family history is bogus, the company's past is fantasy because Bennet Construction itself is brand new and all the referrals and references belong to an older company that they absorbed last year, a company owned and operated by suspected members of the same League.” Barbara explained. “Other than a birth certificate and social security number, there is no real history of JT Bennet. I can't find any schools, jobs or colleges.”

“Some members of the League are raised within the confines of their stronghold.” Bruce sighed. “Whoever he really is, JT was most likely born and raised with the League.”

He could see the fear and concern in her eyes before she even asked. “What about Dick? Is he in danger?”

“While this JT character is most likely playing Dick, no. He has shown time and time again that he only kills dangerous criminals. Even after watching all the reports I can say that every man and woman that fell to him had all killed or raped in their past without need.”

“Without need?”

“For instance, there have still been muggings, thefts, vandalism, and other crimes take place in the city. Crimes in the same vicinity that he's been sited in and yet he does nothing to these criminals. It's because they don't meet his list of requirements which so far includes murder and sexual assault.”

Once again Barbara fell silent and Bruce watched her sort it all out in her head. “It would explain how he knew about you, your injury and all of our identities. The League has always known.” She bit at her bottom lip and sighed. “When are we going to tell the others?”

“Tomorrow when Dick, Tim and Alfred come to see me. I don't believe he's a threat to them unless they spook him. I discussed some of my concerns with Dick earlier before anything was confirmed. Maybe he'll come to the conclusion on his own. He's certainly smart enough to figure it out.”

“That's true, but he also tends to be naive, especially when he's already biased.” Barbara frowned.

“For now, the best bet is to act as if nothing has changed. If we confront him and he has any kind of hint that we're after him, it's going to be impossible to take him down. He'll disappear like he's been trained to do or worse, he'll be replaced with some other plant and then we'll have to start from scratch.” Bruce sighed.

“OK, but what if Dick does figure it out like you said? If we don't want anyone moving in on Bennet just yet than what do we do if...”

“Calm down, Barbara. I trust Dick. Whether he figures it out or not, I have no doubt that he'll be able to handle himself. The only thing we risk is The Red Hood running. JT might be a killer, but I don't doubt for one moment that he cares about Dick.”

“That's not exactly comforting, Bruce.” She huffed as she crossed her arms.

“I know, Barbara, I know, but while I'm stuck in this bed there isn't much more we can do without endangering more lives except to trust that Dick and JT will be able to get through one more night in ignorance.” He shrugged.

* * *

 

1900 hrs

JT's Penthouse.

 

The steady stream of water fell over Dicks' naked chest, his back was pressed against the shower tiles while both of his hands were steadying themselves on his lover. Dick's right hand was gently rubbing the back of JT's head, his fingers knotting and twirling through his thick black hair. His left hand held on firmly to his right shoulder as he moaned salaciously.

Dick bit at his bottom lip while he felt JT's hand gently stroking his length as he licked and teased his weeping tip. His free hand massaged his inner thighs occasionally teasing and pressing at his hole.

“Mmm, JT...” He whimpered when his younger lover moved his mouth over him, sucking his entire length. Dick let go of his shoulder and grasped at the wall, resting more of his weight into the tiled wall at his back. “Oh, God...”

The younger man's answer went unheard as he worshiped Dick's body with his warm, eager tongue. As he grabbed the backs of his strong thighs he built up a rhythm, pistoning him in and out of his mouth. Dick closed his eyes tightly, his teeth gritted as he tried to control himself but he knew it was coming hard and fast and just as he was about to blow....

JT pulled off him and at the same time grabbed him firmly around the base of his cock. Dick cried out in frustrated pain as his boyfriend stood up and grinned, the water now spraying his neck and face. He kissed him hungrily as his free hand moved down over his buttocks and started to test his hole once more. “You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?”

“A guy can dream.” Dick said between kisses.

“Mmm, I want to see if I can get you off the way I did the first time we were together.” JT explained as he grabbed the lube from right next to the shampoo. He let go of Dick long enough to adjust the shower head so that it was shooting straight down.

“That's not...” Dick shivered and blushed at the same time. “That's not normal for me, as a matter of fact that's the one and only time that's ever happened to me before.”

“I figured.” JT grinned, his teal eyes flashing. “I need to stroke my ego a bit, Dick. I need to know if I can do it again.”

Dick groaned and laughed at the same time as he leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What if you can't? I need to cum, JT.” He whined.

“Oh, Baby? You really think I wouldn't take care of you?” JT grabbed his face and made him look in the eyes as he wagged his eyebrows. “It's not fun for me if I can't get you off.”

Before Dick could respond, JT's lips crashed into his own. He could feel JT's hand move back behind him where his other hand was. While they kissed, JT squirted out the lube into his hands and immediately began to massage his entrance. Dick whimpered again as he felt one of JT's finger's pressing into him.

“Bite me, scratch me, do what every you need to do, Dick, but don't you dare touch yourself.” He growled before sinking his teeth into the cop's neck.

Dick's vision blurred as he felt the painful intrusion of a second and impatient finger enter him at the same time his lover's teeth gripped him. He did as instructed and returned the taller man's bite but on his shoulder, his own back arching uncomfortably. “Relax for me, Dick, just relax.” He clung to JT's brawny frame, his eyes settling on an odd wound that was beginning to scar just near his shoulder.

Just as he was starting to focus in on it, JT's fingers brushed that sensitive bundle of nerves and he lost all sense as he cried out. He gritted his teeth as his lover pressed into that same spot again and again, his hole stretching as a third finger pressed inside of him.

Keening and clinging to JT, Dick all but jumped into his arms, his legs wrapping tightly around the other man's waist. If he wasn't so over stimulated and crying out in ecstasy he would have been impressed by how quickly JT adjusted to his weight, holding him in the air for several moments before back him up against the wall so that half the weight was carried by the large walk in shower.

His fingers pulled out and Dick felt empty, so empty that he nearly cried actual tears from the increased frustration. He didn't wait long however, before something much larger and warmer started to make it's way into his properly stretched and lubed hole.

“Fucking...” The younger grumbled. “So fucking....Tight.” He moaned and Dick could help the spasm of his own muscles that tightened about the large cock inside him. “Oh yeah, Dickie...Oh fuck...”

JT kissed him again as he started to thrust, slowly at first and then with increased speed. Dick nuzzled into his neck and shoulder, his legs remaining wrapped about his lover. He reached up and grabbed hold of that mostly black hair and started tugging at it, recalling how much JT insisted he liked it rough.

“Yes.” His lover answered him. “Bite me, pull my hair, I don't care... just don't stop, Dick.” His voice rumbled as he really started to move, pressing Dick harder into the wall as he used it to build up his speed.

Dick yanked JT's hair with one hand as his opposite scratched at his back, all while he bit and kissed at the laborer's jaw, neck and lips. He let out vulgar, wanton sounds every time JT struck his prostate, his body shivering and tightening around the pulsing cock within. He was so close, so very close but he needed to be touched! He needed something, anything to wrap around his own head.

“JT, please, please, you have to touch me, you have to. It hurts...it hurts so good, but it hurts!” Dick begged.

“Damn, Grayson, you sound so pretty when you beg.” JT snarled in his ear before he bit at it viciously. “Keep going, tell me what you want.”

He yelped at the bite but didn't let go or push away. “Please, just fucking touch me, JT. You're killing me here. I need to cum, I need to cum so bad. Please let me cum, JT, please.”

In answer to his pleas, slipped a hand between them, and this time Dick was fully aware and impressed by the younger man's strength as he continued to hold him in place. Just as he was about to compliment said strength, he felt his calloused hand wrap around his shaft and his thumb sweep over the top of his slit. He arched his back in response, this time in pleasure.

“Yes, yes yes, yes.” He kept pulling JT's hair, scratching at his back and biting at him wherever he could between breaths. So long as he kept hitting that spot while stroking him, he wouldn't last long. Couldn't last long. “I'm gonna...

“Fuck yes. Cum for me, Dick.” JT ordered, once again his lips pressed into his ear and with an undignified howl, streams of semen splashed against their stomachs.

As Dick was trying to come down he felt JT pulled out and help him stand before he was whipped about and bent over. The young slipped back inside of him, his strong hands running down his back until the settled at his hips and held him tightly. He rode the waves of his own climax as JT slammed in and out of him aggressively, his fingers holding him in a bruising grip until he finally cried out his own release.

“Oh my God, JT.” Dick moaned as he felt the mans warmth within him. “Oh my God.”

“I know,” JT panted as he spasmed inside of him. “Just...Just hold on a minute. We'll get cleaned up and then I'll cook you dinner.”

 

 

When Dick got dressed he walked out into the kitchen area of the penthouse where JT was wearing only a pair of black sweats. His incredible body was on display and he was once again shocked at the amount of scars he had littered over his finely chiseled torso. He caught himself staring at an injury that looked to be at least a couple of weeks old but he shook it off and looked to his pretty teal eyes instead.

“So what are you cooking me?” Dick asked as he approached the bar style counter.

“Chili dogs.” JT grinned.

“Seriously?” Dick frowned as he sat at one of the stools so that he could watch the man cook.

“No.” His boyfriend laughed. “I'm just fucking with ya. I'm gonna make you some chicken Cacciatore. It's one of the few things I can cook that doesn't come in a can. Sort of”

“Sounds good, do you want any help?” He asked.

“Nope.” Again JT smiled, seeming much more energetic after sleeping that afternoon and most of the evening away. He was whistling a familiar tune as he pulled out a knife and twirled it before setting it beside a cutting board. He had several cans of opened tomato sauce, paste and diced tomatoes that looked ready to be dropped into a cooking pan. On the flat stove top was a frying pan with chicken breast cooking.

“Hey, um,” Dick frowned as his eyes once again focused on the shoulder wound, why was that bothering him so much? It had distracted him during sex, too. “Have you looked into a security detail?”

“Yep.” JT nodded and pulled out two carrots and two ribs of celery. He laid them out on the cutting board and then dumped all the cans of varying tomatoes into a large saute pan that was beside the frying pan. He mumbled some lyrics or other, though Dick couldn't hear them clearly as he had his back to him.

“And?” He frowned, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer.

“Too expensive. I'll be fine.” He shrugged. “Shit...” JT cursed as he started going through all the cupboards in the small kitchen. “There'd better be a fucking rice cooker in here or we're screwed. Cause really? I suck at boiling rice. It should be easy, but I fuck it up every time.”

“If we'd done this at my place you'd have all the appliances you need.” Dick smirked. “Including a rice cooker.”

JT laughed as he ended his search and started pulling out a sauce pan and filling it with water. “This'll work just as well, Dick.” He rolled his eyes as he turned on a third burner and then picked up the knife, twirling it once more before he started chopping the carrots. “Besides, your place is a fucking sty.”

“What makes you think my place is a mess?” Dick frowned because he'd never once invited JT back to his place. He'd been embarrassed at the thought of it after seeing how much of neat freak the smoking construction worker was.

He felt his heart race as JT's smile dropped. He looked worried, panicked even. Why? Why was everything suddenly getting hot? Dick rubbed at the back of his neck as he watched JT nervously twirl that damned knife and oh God, he didn't want to go down this road. It wasn't what he thought it was, he was just imagining things.

“I uh, just assumed from a lot of Alfred's comments, Dick.” He finally answered as he set the knife back down next to the carrots. “You're looking a little pale; do you need some water?”

Dick stepped down from the bar stool and ran his hands through his thick black hair. “That song, that song you've been singing to yourself; it's Megadeth, isn't it?”

“Seriously, Grayson, what's your fucking problem?” JT frowned, his voice dropping dangerously as his eyes focused intently on him and every move he made. “Is it a crime to like one of the most popular metal bands of the 80's and 90's?”

“You're telling me you can't afford security but you can afford this place?” Dick's voice stammered as he stared at the wound again. A wound that was most likely caused by an arrow days before Valentine's Day. “Come on, JT, tell me the truth, please?”

JT's eyes widened momentarily before they settled and he took a deep breath. “No. I can afford all the security I want.” He admitted. “I just don't want or need it.”

“Why?” Dick demanded, his heart pumping and his hands shaking. “Why not, JT?”

“Because it'd be a waste.” He sighed and shook his head. “That asshole doesn't scare me Dick.”

“Why not, JT?” Dick glared.

“You know why!.”

“I want to hear you say it!” Because he did. He needed to or even after Bruce's warning that afternoon he wouldn't let himself believe it. He couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to think he'd fallen for a man that could... He had to hear it from his own lips.

“Don't do this, okay?” JT sighed and leaned against the counter as he dropped his head to stare at the floor.

“Damn it, JT, you are him aren't you?” Dick felt tears burning his eyes as his heart continued to hammer against his chest. “The damned song, knowing what my place is like, having that wound, that fucking wound....That's why you stayed dressed on Valentine's Day, isn't it? It's why I couldn't get a hold of you all night last night and it's why....It's why you won't hire anyone...” He wanted to scream at him as the younger refused to look at him so he did. “SAY IT, JT!”

Startled by the enraged shout, JT looked up at him and for a moment, Dick was sure he saw tears gathered in his eyes. His expression however morphed into something angry and cruel. “Fine, Dick. Fine.” He snarled as his lip curled hatefully. “I am The Red Hood.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do NOT panic! There will be more to this fight and argument. It will pick up where it left off. I would never take their fight away from you guys after so many of you have waited for this exact moment ;). Seriously, I hope you all enjoyed this. There is so much more that's coming and the angst is officially going to kick off starting in Chapter 27.


	26. ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title for this chapter really is dot dot dot. It's on purpose. Sorry this chapter is so short but it's done for a very specific reason and was planned all along so please read end notes for more details. Thanks to the great response from you guys for Chapter 25! Welcome to the new readers and thanks to those who have been with me from the beginning. There is still a long way to go so bare with me and thank you for your patience and continued support! You're all very encouraging and I really am thankful for it.

March 2nd

0815hrs

Crime Alley

 

Such a long gloriously bloody night, not that he'd had too much to do with it. He grinned. He grinned because he always grinned. Even in broad daylight, he grinned. He needed some muscle, needed some pawns to start his game back up. After all, he deserved the spotlight more than this Red Hood poser did. All night and all morning he'd heard about The Red Hood and yet not a single word about him or his escape the evening before. Not one clue to the vigilante's of Gotham City that their greatest nemesis was on the lamb. He simultaneously pleased and insulted.

He walked down the streets of the burrows. He already had a group in mind, a special group who was rather good at keeping the body count high without being picked up by the cops or even the Caped Crusader himself.

As he rounded the corner he felt his smile widen. There were the little beasts themselves, ready to pounce on a man who looked...Whaddya know?! He recognized the white and black motorcycle jacket and the black SWAT pants. Most importantly he recognized that swagger, even if it was sluggish with exhaustion. His eyes took in the sight of the man walking past the small group of smoking teenagers as if he hadn't even seen them.

“Hey man, stop where you are. We need to talk to ya.” One of the teens smiled.

“Fuck off shithead.” The man snarled and he knew, just knew that something was missing in that tone. Something mechanical. His grin increased as he watched a man with a bat take a swing.

It connected and the man grunted as he dropped to one knee. One of the kids, probably the youngest of the eight smacked his crowbar into his open palm several times. He snickered softly. Ah yes, a boy after his own heart. These were definitely the perfect pawns for his next game, that is, if they survived.

The man shivered and caught the bat that was coming at him. He slammed the butt of it back into the batter's gut and then whirled on the one with the crowbar. Seeing his face he blinked back his surprise. Something strange was going on with the kid's hair as black and red dripped down his forehead, revealing a tuft of pure white hair.

Once more that crowbar slapped the hand and the youthful, tired face of their intended victim distorted in rage and fear. “I'll kill you, you fucking clown!” He shouted and was upon one of the young Killerz member. He wrestled the crowbar out of his hand and the struck the boy in the head, again and again. “Don't you fucking laugh at me!”

The seven boys attacked and he merely watched as he cocked his head to the side. “Well, well, well. What have we here?” But how could it be? And yet, really? Who could scream like that? Who did he know that could cry in both fear and rage as beautifully as this broken and very much alive Robin had. Oh but this was just too good to be true!

Oh to have lost Harley to a serial killing Robin? Well worth it once he exposed him! The punchline to this was going to leave the whole city reeling, especially Old Bats! What a savage, ruthless killer the songbird had become! He grinned maniacally as he watched the man kill each and every one of the eight Killerz who'd descended upon him with the very weapon that had been key to his own demise.

It took all of his self control to keep from laughing aloud but oh what fun they would have together! No wonder the kid had wanted him so badly and now that he knew, well he'd happily give him his undivided attention! They'd have a a blast, he could tell. He couldn't wait! There was so much to do. So much to plan for.

He followed him, curious as to where he would take himself to recuperate and wasn't at all disappointed. It'd only be too easy to break in once he left. He had to have that crowbar! Simply had to have it! Their reunion couldn't happen without it!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was easily the scariest chapter for me and it's why it's so short. The Joker is one of my favorite villains but he is also the most difficult and I am so afraid of doing him wrong which is why at this point, this chapter will be the first and last in his perspective. I really hope you guys like this and I promise, Chapter 27 is on it's way. Hopefully no longer than a week, but with the move, I don't want to make any guarantees. We have two more showings tomorrow and are waiting on an offer so yeah... :\


	27. Must Come Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, the moment you've all been anxiously waiting for has arrived. I present to you, (and I really, really hope this doesn't disappoint any of you) the continuation of the Dick and JT's confrontation! Thanks again for your patience and support and as always your lovely comments! They do inspire and motivate and I love reading what you all fear or think will happen next!

Chapter 27

 

_“Damn it, JT, you are him aren't you?” Dick felt tears burning his eyes as his heart continued to hammer against his chest. “The damned song, knowing what my place is like, having that wound, that fucking wound....That's why you stayed dressed on Valentine's Day, isn't it? It's why I couldn't get a hold of you all night last night and it's why....It's why you won't hire anyone...” He wanted to scream at him as the younger refused to look at him so he did. “SAY IT, JT!”_

_Startled by the enraged shout, JT looked up at him and for a moment, Dick was sure he saw tears gathered in his eyes. His expression however morphed into something angry and cruel. “Fine, Dick. Fine.” He snarled as his lip curled hatefully. “I am The Red Hood.”_

 

March 2nd

1940 hrs

 

Dick stared in horror at JT after he made the eerily quiet declaration. His hands started to shake, his throat was dry and his stomach rolled anxiously. All he could think of was the pain in Roy's eyes the night they found him. He pictured again the fear in Timothy's as the teenager had surveyed the bodies that The Red Hood had left behind during his 'rescue'. Twenty-nine faces flashed before him, twenty nine victims over the past thirty-six hours.

And how had his reign of terror ended? With him on his knees sucking Dick's cock. His felt a violent lurch of his stomach at the realization. He'd been fucking the man who had been terrorizing him, his family, his friends and his city! He'd lain with The Red Hood! Oh God! He grabbed at the sides of his head as he tried to make sense of it all in his head.

“Why?” He screamed hysterically. “Why? Why? Why?”

His blue orbs found JT as his vision blurred from the tears rapidly forming and falling. The younger man ignored him as he turned his back to him and began to shut down all of the burners on the stove. After that he placed his knives in the sink and then slowly walked away from that area, his teal eyes glancing longingly toward the weapons.

“Tell me why?” Dick demanded as soon as he felt the strength to speak up again.

“Why what?” JT sneered as he approached. “You could be asking me anything. Try being a little more specific officer.”

“Why are you him? Why?” Dick stepped backward even as JT continued to move toward him. He appeared calm at first glance, but he could see the tension in his body, the recoiling of his muscles as if preparing to launch an attack. This wasn't JT Bennet anymore. No. He was facing off against The Red Hood and yet he couldn't stop the angry, grief stricken tears from falling. “Why did you have to play me like this?”

JT rolled his eyes. “Oh please.” He scoffed cruelly. “You were the one who begged me to make you more than a quick fuck! You're the one who dragged me into your family's life and you're the one who took 'us' to the next level.”

The room was caving in on him. It had to be. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't move. He was paralyzed emotionally and physically. How had this happened to him again? How had he let himself fall for another monster? He wanted to be angry, but all he felt was shock and fear. This couldn't end well. They couldn't just argue and leave each other's lives. This was going to end in blood-shed. There was no way The Red Hood was going to let him go and Dick certainly wasn't going to just lie-down and let the guy kill him.

“You killed twenty-nine people over the past day and a half.” Dick finally choked out. “You could have crippled Roy, you murdered Two-Face right in front of me, you threw Batman off a building!”

“What do you want, Dick? An apology?” JT hissed as he stood before him.

This close, Dick couldn't help but look at scars, especially the one in his shoulder. The wound he should have noticed on Valentine's Day but hadn't because he'd been...He blushed and shook his head. An apology? Ha. Even if the man was sorry saying so wouldn't change a damned thing. He was a murderer, a psycho of the worst kind.

“I just want to know why you...why did you approach me in the coffee shop?”

“Because I needed an in.” JT shrugged, his eyes narrowed and alert. He looked ready to pounce, but Dick was barely hanging on to the strength to stand. “Had to keep an eye on the Bat-Clan in and out of costume and you were the easiest, funnest way to do that.”

“You, you used me?” Dick asked as the anger slowly started to build up again. He blinked back the tears as he stared at JT's impassive face.

“Finest ass in the Justice League, right? Who wouldn't want a piece?” JT grinned cruelly. “In fact one of our mutual friend's told me that you sucked cock like a pro but that he always regretted missing the opportunity to bend you over.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I'll let him know he wasn't missing out on much.”

Dick lunged forward, striking JT's right eye as hard as he could. JT threw a punch of his own, the impact on his jaw making him see stars. He flipped back from him to put some space between them, but the unmasked Red Hood was already running forward to make up the distance. He barely ducked a vicious swing from JT, but took advantage of his lower position by throwing his own fist into the young man's stomach.

JT stumbled back momentarily as Dick once more tried to put distance between them. Even with as experienced and well trained as he had been, he had to admit he'd never actually felt anyone hit as hard as JT. Not anyone that was strictly Human. He'd need to make sure he didn't take another hit or he could wind up unconscious.

“What's the matter, Nightwing?” JT laughed. “Never learned to take a hit?”

Faster than he expected, the deadly vigilante rushed him. He rolled forward, but the big man readjusted his momentum and sidestepped. He felt one strong hand grab his wrist and torque it painfully behind his back, while the other arm wrapped around his neck and pulled his body into JT's. The hold was effectively cutting of his air and he couldn't help but panic. The man's growl rumbled in his ear and Dick knew he wasn't getting out of this. Not conscious, maybe not alive.

“Jesus Christ, Dick.” JT snarled as he shoved him down to the floor. “Look at you! You're fucking trembling! You still think I'm going to kill you? That I'm going to hurt you?”

Dick coughed and gasped for air, before looking at him incredulously. “Why would I expect any different?” He rasped out.

More fury in those teal blue eyes sparked and before Dick could defend himself, JT was atop him, his thighs straddling his chest while his knees pinned down his forearms. He hissed in pain when JT grabbed the hair at the top of his head and held it to the floor. He kept one of hand free and Dick knew it was in case he tried to wrap his legs around his throat.

“When have I ever hurt _any of you_?” JT roared. “ _When_?”

He blinked away the dizziness. “You mean other than now?” Dick grunted, feeling lightheaded from both the blows and the weight of JT's body resting on his chest.

“I saved that damned replacement three times! _Three_!” JT's hands trembled but thankfully, they didn't force his head back into the floor. “I made sure Bruce got the fucking help he needed and I even made sure Summers didn't let the Joker kill your ass on that rooftop and yet you _still_ think I'm the fucking bad guy? Why? Because I took out some scumbags? Because I hurt your precious fucking Roy Harper?”

“You...” He was struggling to breathe with his chest being crushed by the heavier man. “You murdered-”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” JT rolled his eyes. “I murdered a bunch of rapists and killers. Shame on me.” He reached forward and grabbed Dick's chin painfully. “Here. I'll tell you something that will help you sleep at night. Unlike your last psycho boyfriend, not only do I kill for free, but I only kill certain types of criminals.”

“Why... would that... matter?” Dick muttered. “Killing is...killing.”

“Might want to conserve your energy there, sounds like you're struggling for air.” JT smirked as he let his chin go. “But to answer your question, I know you have had Deathstroke dead to rights on a few occasions and yet that asshole never saw the inside of a 6x8, padded or otherwise.”

Dick breathed against the panic that was building inside of him. He could breathe just fine, it just felt like he couldn't. It didn't help that he was still fighting back the angry sobs that wanted to overtake him. He just had to think calmly, had to ease the panic from his mind and look at this the way Batman would. Patiently and calmly.

“I knew what I was getting into with Slade.” He spoke softly so that he didn't have to gasp or fight for air. “It was mutual with him, too. You said it yourself, JT. This was just about getting an 'in' with the Bat-Clan. You hid yourself from me while pursuing me, you blindsided me.”

“You are a fucking idiot, Richard Grayson.” Dick felt the man move so he quickly rolled to his stomach and suck in air deeply. “The signs have always been right in front of you. You just chose not to see them.”

Dick slowly rose to his feet, even if it was a little shaky at first. He narrowed his eyes and faced JT determinedly. “Are you going to come quietly or not?”

“You've gotta be fucking shitting me! Really?” He waved his hands in the air, authentically surprised by Dick's question. “You can't really believe for one damned minute that I'm gonna let you take me in? You aren't that stupid, Nightwing.”

“You must be if you think that I'm just gonna let you walk out of here.” Dick frowned when he flipped him the bird and made the mistake of turning his back on him. He was probably headed for his bedroom.

Dick ran silently across the floor and jumped high into the air. He vaulted himself off JT's shoulders and flipped so that he was standing in front of him, face to face. He struck his eye once more and then dropped low and swept his feet out from under him. JT fell backward, landing hard on his ass, his teal eyes wide and angry as he looked up at him in shock.

He didn't stop there, though. He couldn't. Not if he wanted to safely and successfully take JT Bennet in for the murders he'd committed. With the momentum still swinging in his favor, Dick continued his assault. JT barely blocked most of his punches or kicks while he was stuck on the ground.

As he knocked The Hood backward into the couch he ran forward to throw what he hoped would be a knock out punch. Instead, JT rolled forward, his hand sliding under the couch and returning with a night-stick. Before he could block it, the black stick met his face, followed by JT's foot from a well timed roundhouse kick.

He rolled to the floor, once again on his hands and knees. Something soft and almost silky wrapped around his throat and Dick barely got a few fingers between his throat and the scarf(?). If JT had been trying to prove he wasn't out to hurt him, he'd done a terrible job of it so far. He struggled to stay on his knees as he was pulled backward, his one hand preventing the cloth from wrapping tightly around his throat.

“I know you don't believe me, I know you can't believe me, but I'm just trying to knock you out so I can get the fuck outta here, Dick.” JT growled in his ear. “If you'd quit fucking fighting me this wouldn't have to end so violently!”

Dick was on his knees, pulling desperately with both hands to keep his ex-lover from choking him out. He glanced to the side and realized that JT was in a wide stance. It would be hard, but if he could knock him down, maybe he'd let got of the damned scarf. Nothing to do but try it.

He took another couple seconds to make sure he could put as much strength into the kick as possible before he made his move. Thanks to his flexibility he was able to sweep his right leg out and knock JT's out from under him.

His plan worked as JT let go of one side of the scarf as he fell back ward, allowing the soft cloth to simply slide over his neck without bringing him down, too. As soon as he got to his feet, JT was flipping himself forward as well. Dick waited until the right moment and as soon as JT's head was within in striking distance, he kicked and connected with the man's face and sent him backward over the couch.

Laughter filled the room as the murderous vigilante slowly got to his feet. Loud, unsettling laughter that was coming from JT. He touched his eyes in a wiping motion and continued to laugh as if he'd just heard the greatest joke in the world.

“What the Hell is so funny?” he asked. The way he laughed; there was something deeply disturbing and familiar about it.

“Guess you knocked me senseless.” JT laughed harder and once again wiped at his right eye.

“You're insane.” Dick sneered as he started to step backward.

His laughter cut off abruptly and he smirked. “Aren't we all? You and your family run around the city dressed as flying animals and fighting off criminals. Can't imagine anyone would give you fuckers a clean bill of mental health if you actually fucking _told the truth for once_!”

The laughter died and left in it's place the furious roar of JT. The couch blocked one from the other as they both stood defiantly. Dick wanted to believe the fight was over, but JTs muscles were still tense, his body slightly crouched as if he planned to attack, which, he most definitely was. Dick could at least read that about the man.

“You're still trying to blame us?” Dick snorted with disbelief. “Still? You came after us! You came to Gotham City when you could have gone anywhere! You inserted yourself into our lives as JT Bennet, as The Red Hood and yet you keep throwing this back at our feet?”

“I don't blame you for my actions.” JT sneered. “I'm not trying to blame any of you for anything. What I am doing is pointing out the hypocrisy of your family. You're not just mad I turned out to be a murderer, you're mad I kept secrets from you, you're made that I'm not the first asshole you've fallen for.

“You said it yourself, Dick, you got involved with Slade eyes wide fucking open. You knew he was a mercenary and an assassin. You fucking knew it, but you still got on your damned knees for him, still begged him to be your Daddy.” JT sneered. “You have the fucking nerve to be pissed that I didn't tell you I was Red Hood from the get-go but you never, ever considered telling me you were the great Nightwing! The first fucking Robin of Gotham City!

“What? Only you guys get to keep secrets? Only the Waynes and their wards have the right to keep their fuck-buddies in the dark?”

Dick flinched at the shouting, flinched at the painful truth of JT's words, but he was still missing the point. “You may be right about menot telling you I'm Nightwing, I'll give you that, but what you are clearly ignorant of is why Slade and I never went further.”

“You mean it had nothing to do with the fact that he's old enough to be your grandfather?” JT spat viciously.

“No you immature child!” Dick snapped. “Because he was a monster just like you! Because he was never going to stop killing people or doing bad things for money! Because I couldn't live with myself!

“You're so quick to judge everyone around you, so quick to pull that trigger when someone else is in your cross-hairs, but have you ever put yourself through the same scrutiny? What makes you better than the men and women you've murdered?”

“You don't get it! You can't possibly fucking understand!” JT shouted. “You will never get the pain of knowing that the man who destroyed your life is allowed to run free! That after everything he did to you, after every strike, every.... that he's just walking this Earth as if he belongs! As if he isn't the fucking parasite that he is!

“The man who took your life away, who killed your family was electrocuted you spoiled shit-head!” JT cried out as angry tears fell down his cheeks. “The man that ruined me? The man that took everything from me gets to walk around this God forsaken city day in and day out! Why? Because the Batman doesn't fucking kill. Because Nightwing is only allowed to break the laws that are convenient to his mission! Because fucking Robin refuses to sink to his level!

“You all let him free! You let him kill more! Why did I come to this fucking city? That's what you asked earlier wasn't it? Why?” Dick stepped back as he watched the man tremble with rage and...and fear? “I came to this city to put down the rabid fucking dogs that you and your family can't or won't euthanize yourselves! To give these fuckers everything they deserve!”

“And you're the guy who gets to determine that? You get to be judge jury and executioner?” Dick argued back.

The man lunged, but Dick was ready for him. Or so he thought. As he monkey flipped JT over the top of him, the man landed beside the dining table. He pulled some rope that must have been taped to the bottom of it. How many weapons did this unstable man have hidden all about this suite?

Once more JT charged him and Dick jumped over the couch, hoping the furniture would act as a barrier once more. Unfortunately the taller man dove over it and pressed on him hard and fast. He threw strikes and kicks until Dick was finally back into the corner. He tried to land a few punches of his own, but JT caught his left wrist and pulled him forward into a hard, painful head-butt.

He saw stars and everything went black for a few seconds, maybe longer. It must have been longer, because when he opened his eyes again JT was no longer standing shirtless and in sweats. The Red Hood was standing over him in most of his uniform. The only thing that was missing was the red helmet or even the red domino mask. He pushed the white strands of hair out of his eyes as he crouched in front of him.

“Come on, Blue-Bird, let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours.” JT requested as he held his chin in a gloved hand. “There we go.”

“Get your fucking hands off me.” Dick pulled his face away from him and realized at once that he was tied up. His wrists and elbows were bound painfully behind his back while he was seated with his ankles tied together in front of him. Even his knees were tied together. “What is all this?”

“I'm not letting you arrest me. I don't give shit what uniform you're wearing.” JT shrugged, his voice much calmer now.

He stayed crouched in front of him and Dick had a feeling that he wanted to find an excuse to touch him again. Maybe, just maybe he could still get out of this. He didn't want to use guile, but it certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done it. Even if JT had never really loved or cared for him, he knew the young man had always been attracted to him. There was no way he'd faked that.

“Just, just tell me.” Dick's voice trembled in anticipation, but thankfully he was pretty certain he sounded scared or desperate. “Did any of it mean anything to you?”

“Fuck you, Dick.” JT sneered and stood. “You think I'll untie you if you bat those baby blues at me?” He shook his head before running his hand through his hair again. “You think I'm stupid? You think I believe you'd ever forgive me for what I did to Roy alone? You're an asshole Dick, just like the Old Man. You hold grudges and hold people to unrealistic standards. It doesn't matter if I want you or not. You're just hoping to get out of those bonds before I leave the penthouse.”

“Why _did_ you hurt him?” Dick asked. “You claim you never wanted to hurt us, that you've never hurt us but you damned near crippled Roy! And for what? Doing the same thing any of us would have done? For trying to stop you?”

“Trying to stop me? Roy fucking Harper didn't try to stop me until _after_ Ryan Murphy was dead!” JT bellowed. “Arsenal put his nose where it didn't fucking belong and he suffered the consequences!”

He was startled by the furious reaction the man had to talking about his best friend. “He was doing what you claim you're doing. Being a hero by protecting this city!”

“A hero who watched me stab and slice Ryan Murphy up? A hero who did nothing to protect the man in my grip?” JT snickered. “Your bestie enjoyed watching me kill that guy. That's why he didn't stop me when he could have. Harper's no longer drinking the kool-aid, Blue-Bird. He didn't stop me because he wanted to watch that piece of shit bleed to death.”

“So that excuses what you did to him? To his leg? Is it because of the junkie piece or was that a lie, too. Just part of your fucked up cover? Did your dad really beat you or are those scars on your body from the League of Assassins?”

“Don't you fucking talking about my past!” JT roared. “Roy got what he deserved! Pure and simple!”

“I can't even imagine what it would look like if you got what you deserved, JT!” Dick shouted back.

“Trust me when I tell you this, Dick.” JT leaned down and into his face, his dark teal eyes looking directly into his own. “I've already received everything I deserved or will deserve, ten fucking fold. Everything I earned or will earn has already been taken from my flesh, from my mind and from my soul.”

Dick shivered at how low his voice dropped, how intensely he delivered those words. He swallowed hard at the look in his eyes, the despair, rage and fear that were beheld in them. How had he never seen it before? The young man was broken and he knew it. Hell, JT himself knew he was broken.

“You know what's funny?” JT smiled wryly as he stood and dug out a pack of cigarettes from his tactical pants. “I never would have attacked Roy had he not shot me.” He pulled out a lighter next and lit the end of his white paper wrapped stick. He took a long deep drag. “Hell, had he tried to stop me from the beginning I never would have shot him with my grappling gun. I'd have knocked him out or run from him like always did for you guys, but I wouldn't have hurt him.”

“So then why did you?” Dick frowned. “I don't understand. You're contradicting yourself.”

“No, Dick. I'm really not.” He smiled and blew the smoke up at the ceiling. “If Roy had taken a stand one way or another, I would have respected him just as I did you, Timothy and Bruce. Unfortunately for Roy's leg, the asshole didn't try to stop me from killing Murphy, nor did he simply leave me alone.

“Instead, he let me kill the shit-head and then decided to come and play hero. He wanted to be the dark avenger and then turn around and be the hero but I don't swing both ways.” JT grinned viciously. “Make sure he knows that, Dick. That he brought it upon himself.”

JT grabbed a red helmet from a small end table and moved toward the door. “One way or another, JT, I will find you and I will put away.” Dick promised.

JT nodded and left the penthouse without any further argument. Dick quickly worked at the ropes that held him and blushed when he realized the man hadn't put much effort into the restraints. All he'd had to do was pull one end of the ropes and he was free. JT must not have meant to hold him, he'd most likely just wanted the head start and once again his own head started to throb.

This had nothing to do with the blows he'd taken, though. This headache was cause purely by the contradiction that was JT Bennet and The Red Hood. The psycho could have killed him, hurt him, kidnapped him, restrained him for at least a day before anyone noticed he'd gone missing but no. He didn't do any of that. Instead, he tied him up, talked to him and kept an eye on him until he was sure he either didn't have a concussion or maybe until he knew it had gone away.

He left the living area once he got to his feet and gathered his clothes. He didn't bother to look around or investigate. He just wanted to get the Hell out of there. He dressed himself in his jeans and dark blue sweater, still unsure of what he was going to do.

He had to get out of there, he had to leave before something worse happened, but really what more could possibly go wrong? JT of course hadn't returned to the penthouse while he'd changed, but where had he gone dressed like that? He may have acted strangely, but he wasn't stupid. Of course he had no doubt that JT would be on the run from here on out, but it was still likely that he'd have a place to hole up in.

He fished the key-card to the penthouse out of his wallet and dropped it on the floor just beside the door. With only half a second's hesitation he left the penthouse for what he knew would be the last time. JT would need a new hiding place, so maybe if he was lucky he could get home, change into his Nightwing uniform and find him. But then what?

It would be too dangerous to send the cops after JT at this time. While he might not kill them, he would hurt them. He'd proven that with Roy. He couldn't go after him with Robin either, not yet. Not until he had more time to process what the Hell had happened and what it all would mean. Oh God, he'd have to tell Bruce, too.

Wouldn't that be fun?

His mind wandered as he waited for the elevator. Dick couldn't help but wonder what would become of Bennet Construction and the Burrows Reformation Project. Would the man known as JT Bennet, no doubt a clever alias for the assassin, disappear off the face of the Earth or would he keep trying to move in the real world? He supposed in the end, it no longer really mattered.

JT Bennet was The Red Hood and because of his crimes, because of the blood he spilled across the city and the amount he'd stained his soul in, he could never be anything more to Dick than another thug on the streets. He closed his eyes as he stepped into and took the elevator down to the bottom floor, his head hurting, his chest tight and his stomach rolling.

* * *

 

Jason only waited until he was sure that Dick was gone before he headed back into his hotel room to shout all the rage he had pent up from trying to calmly get through the past forty minutes. He wanted to break things, he wanted to trash the hotel and he wanted to beat the walls into oblivion. Instead, he took several angry breaths and counted to ten over and over and over again.

He didn't have long before he would need to make his move, but one thing was clear; he could not sleep in the penthouse. While he couldn't know for certain what Dick would do next, he was fairly definite that his first instinct would be to run. After anything had gone wrong in the man's life he often took off for days or even weeks at a time.

His eyes flicked to his cell phone sitting on the night stand when he went to his bedroom. Alfred had been trying to call him for the past two hours? He ignored it for a moment as he grabbed his jump bag and set it atop the bed. Jason changed out of his Red Hood outfit and dressed himself quickly into a pair of jeans and an old Metallica T-shirt before he threw on his black hoodie. Despite what he'd lead Dick to believe, he couldn't be out on the streets for him and Robin to find.

A strange burning returned to his eyes but he shook it off. He would not be upset about something he had caused himself. If he'd just left it at the first fifteen kills he wouldn't have been too exhausted to keep himself from slipping up in front of him. Then again, he'd had nearly six hours of sleep before the Golden Boy had arrived which meant exhaustion wasn't an excuse.

The vibrations of his phone caught his attention once more. Alfred's name flashed across the touch screen and he just wasn't sure he could deal with whatever fucking emergency the Wayne family was going through. Still, he didn't need the old man showing up at his penthouse. Eventually Dick would have to tell Bruce and when he started checking the Hotel's surveillance, Alfred didn't need everyone questioning why the Hell he was at JT Bennet's penthouse.

“What is it?” He snapped angrily.

“Master Todd, that is no way to answer a telephone call. Especially when that phone call is being made only as a courtesy to you.” Alfred snapped back.

“Oh, uh, Sorry Alfred. What's going on?” He rubbed at his eyes irritably to keep any harsh tone from tainting his words. He wasn't mad at Alfred. He was pissed off at himself and a little at Dick.

“Timothy knows, Master Todd.”

“Knows what? That JT is the Red Hood?”

“No. That The Red Hood is Jason Todd.”

“That fucking ass-hat know it all!” Jason cussed angrily. Now he really wanted to rip something the fuck up. Maybe he needed a night out with Gotham's underworld afterall? “How?”

“Honestly, Jason I don't know why you're surprised when you were the one who left behind that domino mask in the hospital.” Alfred lectured. “He realized it was still sticky from use and did a DNA test on what he could gather.”

“Fuck me. This night just can't possibly get any better!” He declared heatedly. “Who has he told?”

“Myself and no one else. He's worried that talking to Master Bruce about this will only lead to him harming himself while he pursues you.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Jason couldn't stop himself as he kicked a hole in the nightstand which as it slammed into the wall, put a hole into it as well.

“I don't think he plans to talk to anyone about it.” Alfred frowned.

“That's not the point.” Jason sunk to the floor, his back leaning against the side of the bed as he pulled his knees to his chest. He leaned his head back so that it lay flat on the top of the bed. “Dick figured out that JT Bennet is The Red Hood.”

“I see. Did you tell him that you are Jason Todd as well?”

“Of course I didn't tell him I'm Jason fucking Todd. I think one fucked up surprise is enough for one night, don't you?” Jason growled as he moved his head to back to the upright position. “And now he'll either calling the cops on me or run to Bruce.”

Alfred sighed heavily over the phone. “If that's what you believe then you don't know him at all.” The older man retorted. “Master Todd, what do you plan to do? Are you going to run away from all of this?”

“I'm not turning myself in, that's for fucking sure.” Jason insisted. “I've got a plan though, Old Man. Don't worry.”

There was a long silence before Alfred finally spoke. “Jason, are you alright?”

“I'm fine. Dick needs someone to tend to him though. He was always weak like that.”

“On the contrary, Master Grayson is a very strong young man. He will weather through this and he will come out even stronger for it. He's not the type to give up.” Alfred explained.

“But I am?” Jason sneered, feeling like something was being implied of him.

“Of course not, Master Todd, but the reason why Dick is so strong is that he has a support system.” Alfred reasoned. “I can't imagine the League of Assassins are very chummy.”

Jason snorted and then laughed softly. “No they aren't, Alfred. Not in the slightest.” He sighed and then looked at the time. “I have to get out of here. Don't worry Alfred, even when you aren't keeping secrets for me, I'll keep up our deal. I won't hurt any of them unless it's honest to God self-defense. Even the Replacement.”

“You were once a replacement if I recall correctly, Master Todd.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Text me or call me if you need anything again, Alfred.” Jason hung up quickly, unwilling to hear anything else from him. He needed to get through the night without busting up like a fucking infant and he couldn't do that with Alfred so kindly reminding him how alone he was in this stupid world.

He grabbed his bag which now included the Red Hood outfit and moved down to his first hotel room. The place had been cleaned but he'd still refused to give it up. He didn't really believe that Dick would go to the cops, but there was no point in being proven wrong either. He'd need to change the name the room was being kept under, but that wasn't too hard to do.

He set down his jump bag on the floor beside the bed, pulled out another cigarette and then started setting up his laptop. Tonight might have felt like a Red Hood kind of night, but he needed to protect JT Bennet first and that was going to take at least half the night to do.

* * *

 

March 3rd

0016 hrs

 

Nightwing was perched on the cross of one of the most magnificent cathedrals in Gotham. He loved being so high up in the air, watching over the skyline of Gotham city. It was a chilly night, but nothing compared to what it had been all of February and January. It felt as if the winter winds were finally giving way to something warmer and he wouldn't complain. He needed the warmth to return to Gotham. He needed the warmth to return to his soul.

He should have gone to Bruce or the cops, but he was still reeling. Everything hurt both physically and mentally. Really, he shouldn't have come out tonight, not for patrols. He was just begging for something to go sideways. That and he had this terrible feeling someone or something was watching him. Still, after checking two dozen times, he was positive it was all in his head. Perhaps he was subconsciously hoping for JT to show up and tell him it was all a prank, an angry retaliation for daring to suspect him of something so ludicrous.

He placed his face into his hands and gritted his teeth. It was so hard not to leave Gotham to fend for herself when he felt like this. Slade had called him out for being a coward years ago, but he'd never wanted to admit it before. When things went wrong, he ran. He ran because it's what he was taught to do by one of his only two positive male role-models. Running was easier and if it weren't for Bruce being in the hospital, he would have flown the nest hours ago.

“What has become of my life?” He whispered aloud. First the Huntress, then Deathstroke, and now The Red Hood. What was next? The Joker. He shook his head because that thought actually made him physically ill.

Something else was making him ill, too. Guilt. If it hadn't been for him, Roy wouldn't have ever been hurt. Sure, it had been JT's weapon that caused the damage, but Roy was only in town because of him. He insisted on his two best friends coming out to meet JT Bennet. Had he just gotten to know him better before gathering everyone to meet him, then maybe Roy would still be running around Star City.

Others would try to tell him it was out his control, but he knew better. He understood that everything happened for a reason and there were consequences to every action. Raised by Bruce Wayne and trained by Batman, there was no way he could see it any other way. Robins were always trained to take responsibility for their decisions. Robins don't runaway from anything. Except emotions, obviously.

He felt his eyes burning again. Why did it have to hurt so much? How could still feel anything for a man who hurt his own friend. Oh God, and of course, JT must have known it was Roy when he attacked him. They'd lied to him about Roy's injury, but of course he'd known all along. How did that man have the nerve to even look him in the eye?

JT had lied to so easily about why he didn't have much empathy for the man. This whole time he'd spun lie after lie so seemlessly. He'd hidden wounds, he let himself get nearly beaten to death...and wow, what was that about? Why had he allowed Black Mask to hurt him so badly? Why was he that committed to keeping his identity a secret that night, but was no dropping clues left and right?

Dick's head throbbed as it wandered from guilt, to anger, to shock, and back to sadness. Flashes of his time with both JT and Slade started to blur together. His anger spiked every time he pictured Roy sitting at home trying to get his leg stronger after what JT did to him. Then of course there was the damage that Slade had done to the Teen Titans, to himself, and yet even after all of that he'd willingly... He shook his head and tried to shake it off.

None of this was productive. It was all distracting and he really, really needed to get off the cross before he fell. Figuratively and literally. He simply wasn't in the right frame of mind to be scaling sky scrapers or hunting down criminals.

His comms buzzed in his ear. “Hey, Nightwing, we have a problem?” Robin's voice announced.

“What is it?”

“Apparently the Joker broke out of New Arkham on the 1st, but thanks to The Red Hood's crime spree as well as some maneuvering of the Joker's, no one informed Gordon. He just got a hold of me.” Something was off about Tim's voice. He'd need to make sure everything was okay when they got back to the manor. “I've been patrolling the Burrows but there's no sign of him.”

“Yeah, uh, I've been all over the West End and things are pretty calm.” He sighed. “We'll talk to Batman in the morning and set up some kind of plan for catching him before he kills anyone.”

“Copy that. You got his message right?”

No. “What message?” Nightwing asked as he began to climb down the cross.

“Says he needs us to meet up at eight am, no earlier.” Robin responded. “Just us. Says there's something urgent he needs to talk to us about.”

Great. What else could possibly go wrong? Then again, maybe he'd found out about the Joker, too. “Alright. Hey, I think we should probably head back to the cave. Something's off about this night and my head's just not in it tonight.”

“Yeah, same here.” He wondered what could be affecting Tim so badly. He'd need to talk to him about it when they both got back home. It wasn't like Tim to give up a patrol so easily. Honestly, he'd expected a bit of an argument.

He carefully climbed down the rooftop and looked all around him as a strange unsettling feeling wrapped about him. Then again, he had just heard that the Joker was on the lamb. Was the Joker watching them now? He fought the urge to shiver. No one planned like the Killer Clown. He might want the world to believe he was all chaos and spontaneity, but those who actually knew him, who actually fought him as often as the Bat-Clan did, knew better. The man was a genius and he planned everything.

Another wave of guilt crashed through him, threatening to suffocate him as he realized that he was abandoning the city to go nurse his own wounds. Would his selfishness ever cease? He internally scolded himself because he couldn't go down that path. He ran from his thoughts as fast as he could, he ran as if he could leave the judgment behind him along with his self-doubt and the pain of losing JT Bennet forever.

* * *

 

March 3rd

0102 hrs

Wayne Manor

 

Timothy Drake sat in front of his desk with his head buried in his hands. He was struggling to cope, struggling to make sense of everything and the added pressure of the Joker being loose. It frightened him now more than it ever had. Which, he knew was probably a bit odd.

When he'd first learned of Jason Todd's demise it had the proper effect of making him wary, but it had never been real. He never knew the teenager and while logically he knew how dangerous what they did was, he'd never felt it. Not until he'd finally gotten in over his own head. He'd learned quickly that every night out there by the side of Bruce Wayne could potentially be his last.

For some strange reason, knowing Jason Todd was alive didn't ease his fear of dying. Actually, it reinforced it. Jason Todd had been dead, could still be dead. Coming back to life didn't make the fear any easier. Perhaps that was because it was so unlikely and since it had already happened once for Jason, it was improbable that it could happen again.

That Jason Todd had truly died was never doubted by Tim. Not even after he found out that the second Robin was alive. Bruce Wayne wasn't a fool. If he said Jason Todd was dead, then he was in fact dead. That man wouldn't have missed a faint heart beat, he wouldn't have missed the possibility of reviving him. Whatever had happened to Robin the second, it had been miraculous. Evil, most likely, but miraculous.

He also had developed a new fear.

The Red Hood had captured the special attention of The Joker. He felt fear and concern for a man he barely knew, for a man who'd killed dozens, possibly hundreds. Why? Because if anyone could kill a Robin a second time, it was Joker. He'd done it once and he'd surely try again. If anyone could make death stick it was the Clown Prince of Crime and there was no way that Joker would ignore the fact that a young man he'd put to death was suddenly running around Gotham. He'd take it as a personal insult that Jason didn't stay dead.

Did the insane clown know? He doubted it since he made it clear that he saw him as competition for Batman. Now though, every altercation was slowly coming together for Tim. He called him replacement with real anger, real indignation. He snarled at him, at all of them and despite threatening to put them all down, the only one he'd really hurt was Roy.

He called Connor shortly after talking to Barry Allen, demanded more of a detailed explanation about Jason Todd and Connor had given in. He told him what he already knew, that Todd had badly wanted to be a Titan and that he'd never managed to make any friends with the other Titans. He went over how angry he'd been when Roy kicked him off the team. This time he expanded more. Gave him specifics.

Robin and Arsenal were sent to investigate a suspicious break in near Old Arkham Asylum. Someone claimed to have spotted the Trickster. The Central City native had made a mistake, it was in fact the Joker they'd seen. Arsenal went in and after trying to fight off a bunch of henchmen, the Joker struck him with some kind of tranquilizer. When he came to, Roy claimed he saw Robin beating a man to death, that no matter how many times he called for him to stop, Robin refused. The man lived but was put in the hospital and paralyzed from the waist down due to a broken spine.

Of course Jason denied he'd been that far gone, but the team didn't believe him. They'd all seen his temper, they'd all watched him hit thugs too hard, aim his batarang a little too close to jugulars or even shoot his grappling hook at criminals as if it were a weapon. Tim sighed because that alone should have told Roy, Dick and Wally who The Red Hood was.

Connor explained that Roy was in a foul mood when he returned to the Tower and that he demanded a vote to remove Jason from the Titans. Jason insisted that Roy was just pissed off because he'd been injured and it pained him to allow Jason to take the lead and to prove he didn't need anyone's help. He tried to get the others to believe his side, to believe that Joker had been the one to injure his own man and that while he had punched the man to get him to reveal Joker's location, that Roy was exaggerating the rest.

Of course everyone sided with Roy, but Connor made it clear that the moment Dick stood with Roy, Jason just gave up. He said it was the only time any of the Titans had seen him look so hurt or defeated.

He probably hurt Roy because he saw him as the man who helped tear him down and who helped everyone fear or distrust him. The only good thing people said of Jason was that he was passionate, but Tim knew better. That was just a nice way of saying he was out of control or aggressive, or too angry. No one wanted to bad mouth a dead hero, especially one of Batman's partners, but there was no real love lost.

That saddened Tim. It bothered him more than he would have thought. Even knowing what he knew now. Jason had deserved better, he'd deserved to have the team watch his back. Replacing Dick was impossible and he knew from first hand experience that Jason was most likely disliked simply because Dick had initially been so angry at Batman for bringing in a new Robin. They may not have meant to, but Tim knew they judged him harshly from the beginning. That they compared him to Nightwing and were probably never really open to the idea of anyone replacing their friend.

But now, Jason was in more danger and it terrified him. Of course The Red Hood himself terrified the young teen, but he didn't want to see him killed. He'd been made a Joker puppet once and he just knew that if Joker found out that Jason Todd, the real Jason Todd, was still alive...He shivered at the horrors that psycho would try to put him through.

A soft knock roused him from his thoughts. “Come in.” Tim croaked. He grabbed his glass of water as Dick wandered in to his room. He immediately noted how shitty Dick looked. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just...just having one of those nights.” Dick tried to fake a smile, but Tim wasn't fooled. No one could smile like his brother when the man was in a good mood, not even Dick himself. He wore his heart on his sleeve, unlike anyone else in the family. When Dick hurt, he couldn't fake that he wasn't. “You sounded a little weird earlier, I just wanted to check on you.”

It was hard not to tell him what he discovered. Not just because they were so close, but also because they were partners. The Bat-Clan always shared discoveries excitedly. Knowing that he was withholding the identity of one of their most dangerous adversaries was surreal. Unfortunately, Alfred was right. Bruce's recovery was more important and if he told Dick, there was no way he'd be willing to keep it to himself. He was too loyal.

He finally shrugged his shoulders. “I just can't stop thinking that if I hadn't interfered, The Red Hood might have killed the Joker that day.” Tim half admitted. “Not that I want him dead, but you have to admit...

“No.” Dick said sharply. “No, Timothy, you can never, ever think like that. Killing a criminal, now matter how bad he is just isn't the way. It will eat at your soul until you are so numb that you can't feel anything.”

“Come on, Dick, you know I'd never do that.” Tim frowned, a little surprised by his reaction. “I wouldn't condone anyone else doing it either, but you can't deny that the trail of dead bodies that the Joker leaves behind is...”

He didn't finish his thought because Dick's bright blue eyes were so large and terrified by the direction Tim was going. He cut himself off and then looked away. He was going to say it was desensitizing him to the tragedy of death. Tim was grateful he hadn't though, because Dick looked ready to break down into a million pieces.

Why was he so upset? Was it the Red Hood's kill count? Had he fought with his boyfriend? Could it be the stress of Roy's slow recovery? Any of it was possible given how susceptible to guilt fueled depression he was. That whole wearing your heart on your sleeve thing tended to come with strongly felt emotions, hence why everyone could see it and no one seemed to feel as strongly as Dick.

Happy or sad he felt it to the fullest. When he'd been forced to witness a criminal being killed in front of him, Dick had disappeared because the guilt was too much. He'd taken the blame as if he'd been the one to pull the trigger himself. That he could empathize so easily made him both a great leader and a terrible one. At least for a while it had.

“Dick, I think you're the one who is hurting.” Tim tried again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, no. I'm not hurting,” Dick scoffed as he shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms. “I'm gonna head to bed. We gotta be up early if we want to talk to B.”

“Yeah okay,” Tim nodded. “I hope you feel better, Dick.”

Dick started to head for the door and he could have swore he heard him say. “Me too, Timmy, me too.”

* * *

 

March 3rd

0800 hrs

 

Alfred stood in the small hospital room with Dick, Tim and Barbara. Bruce was lying in his bed with a scowl over his face and Barbara kept looking to Dick with concern. Tim stared tiredly at the floor and Dick's eyes were bloodshot. He'd either been crying or simply hadn't slept well. Either or both made sense to the old man because he was fully aware of what the acrobat had discovered the evening prior.

If he had to guess what had Bruce and Barbara so upset, he'd imagine it had to do with the Joker's escape. Of course he knew Tim was being eaten away at by keeping the other secret. It had pained Alfred to push Tim into such a decision, but the fact of the matter was, Bruce would never let himself heal if he believed Jason Todd was alive. Even if he wasn't The Red Hood, he'd jump out of that bed and hunt the boy down.

“Barbara and I have come across some information that you all need to be made aware of immediately. Especially, you Dick.” Bruce began as he tried to look the oldest of his wards in the eye. “After some further research, we have discovered the identity of The Red Hood.”

Tim's eyes shot up and widened as he stared at Bruce and then briefly glanced at Alfred before looking back to his adopted father. “You have?”

“Yes.” Bruce nodded. “Dick, I'm so sorry.”

“He revealed himself to me yesterday.” Dick admitted softly with a shrug. “We had a blow up, but I didn't take him in. I...I couldn't, B.”

Tim's brows furrowed, but Alfred spoke up first because while he didn't know what Bruce knew, he was aware that Dick had no idea that the man he'd been sleeping with was Jason Todd and Tim could not be the one to tell him. “What exactly have you discovered, Master Bruce? I'm afraid Timothy and I are at quite the disadvantage here.”

Bruce nodded calmly at Dick and then his steely blue eyes settled on Timothy. “JT Bennet of Bennet construction is the man under the red hood. He is a member of the League of Assassins and most of his history has been falsified by them.”

“What?” Tim's eyes widened and then his face turned white as he looked from Dick to Alfred and back to Bruce yet again. “He, he's Dick's boyfriend? No, that can't be. There has to be a mistake, Bruce.”

“We double and triple checked.” Barbara sighed while Alfred discretely pulled out his cell phone. He quickly sent off two text messages to two different people, feeling only a little guilty for the secrets he was keeping.

“It's really messed up,” Dick agreed as he took a shaky breath. “but he confessed last night. It's, it's why I couldn't finish our patrols.”

Tim looked hurt and confused but he was distracted by a buzzing in his pocket. He glanced quickly at his cell phone without taking it out and then his shoulders drooped and he nodded. “It all fits, doesn't it?” He sounded resigned and defeated and Alfred was truly sorry for that but he knew that the boy understood the need for keeping that other bit to himself.

“We should have caught it sooner,” Bruce acknowledged angrily. “but with the backing of the League of Assassins I can't say I'm surprised. They are able to accomplish quite a bit when they decide to throw their resources into something.”

“So we need to discuss our next move.” Barbara announced. “We have to get him off the streets. He can't be allowed to run around Gotham City killing people.”

“What evidence do we have that we can send the police?” Dick asked, trying not to sound as saddened by the conversation as he clearly was.

“There is a lot of video of him in the mask, but none out of it. Right now it's mostly circumstantial.” Barbara admitted. “However, now that we know who his alter ego is, it shouldn't be too hard to catch him in the act.”

“Do we really want to?” Everyone grew silent as Tim spoke up. Even Alfred was a little surprised by his outburst. “He did save my life. Just the other day in fact.”

Bruce frowned as his brows furrowed, but it wasn't with anger. Alfred could see the compassion burning in his eyes. “I know it's difficult, Tim. He protected you from Joker and now from Black Mask.”

“He was cruel and a jerk, no doubt about it,” Timothy stated. “but he also wrapped me up in that jacket and he made sure I was protected until Dick came around. I think he planned to go further because he seemed really surprised when Dick arrived.”

Dick's hands started to clench and unclench; Alfred could tell that the conversation was really dragging the young officer down. Tim who had been so staunchly against The Red Hood seemed to have had a change of heart that impressed the butler. Perhaps they'd be able to keep that secret longer than he was currently anticipating.

“That doesn't justify the rest of his actions.” Bruce pointed out. “He's killed a lot of people, more than two dozen in the past fourty-eight hours alone.”

“I know and I'm not saying he should get away with what he's done I just believe we need to think before we move against Mr. Bennet.” Timothy tried again. “Stephanie Brown may not have been one of us in the traditional sense, but she was in the broader spectrum. She was a fellow vigilante, only a few months younger than I am now. The same age Jason Todd was when he died.”

Alfred wasn't at all surprised by the strained silence in the room after Timothy spoke the second Robin's name. Bruce in particular had been haunted by dreams and unbeknownst to him, real conversations with the boy.

“What's your point?” Barbara asked curiously.

“The point is, he's grieving. Maybe he became a vigilante for similar reasons.” Tim shrugged. “We now know his past is made up. That means it could be anything, it could be tragic and terrible. I just think that maybe we should be smart about this.

“Right now he's completely lost it to his emotions. That's obvious from how brutally and quickly he moved after news that Stephanie Brown had been murdered came out. If we try going after him now, he'll either disappear or he'll be twenty times more dangerous.”

“We don't shy away from danger, Timothy.” Dick sighed.

“Well I don't think you of all people are in the right mind to take him on, Dick.” Tim frowned. “Bruce, you have to heal. That's all there is to it. Dick can't fight him while he's still hurting over this discovery. No offense, Barbara but you aren't going to be of much help in the field against him and that leaves me to deal with him.

“At this point, I believe him too dangerous to approach. He was just found out by his boyfriend, he's emotionally wrecked by the death of a teenage girl by her own father, he's just spent two days murdering people, including a small group of gang-members. It's not worth the risk.”

Alfred and the others looked to Bruce, waiting to hear what he had to say on Timothy's analysis of the situation. In his opinion, Alfred couldn't agree more and it had nothing to do with protecting Todd. The fact of the matter was, JT, Jason, whoever he wanted to be at the moment, was emotionally compromised in the worst of ways. He could be very unpredictable and therefore very dangerous to Timothy or Dick.

Of course only he and Timothy understood why Stephanie Brown's death haunted him. It wasn't identical, but there were too many similarities to his own death. Betrayed by a parent. Ran around in a costume trying to foil crimes. Killed at fifteen years old by a grown man without a heart. It might not be enough for most to make a connection, but Todd had always been disturbed by the deaths of children and young teenagers. Even as Robin.

“We should still try to arrest him.” Dick sighed.

“I agree. If he really doesn't kill innocents, sending a SWAT team to his offices should be enough.” Barbara nodded. “We just have to gather evidence against him, prove he's The Red Hood and take him in.”

“It's not that simple.” Tim argued.

“Since when are you on his side?” Barbara frowned.

“I'm not on his side, but I don't want anyone hurt, either.” The teenager argued. “Besides, we need to find out his real history or we'll never be able to catch him. I still think he's a local.”

“Timmy, what does it matter?” Dick asked.

“He believes he's saving this city!” He pointed out emphatically. “He's hunting down criminals and he's doing it in the name of the innocent. Why not go anywhere else? Why here? Why him? What happened in his past that Ra's al Ghul took him in, trained him, and then sent him here?

“Know thy enemy. It's a simple strategy that we've all been taught by Bruce. If we go in with nothing but our own anger for the murders he's committed we'll never catch him.”

Once again all eyes fell to Bruce. The man was nodding, his eyes settled proudly on Tim. Alfred could practically hear the thoughts of the man he'd all but raised. Timothy Drake, the boy he'd trained only because he'd felt forced to, this boy who pretended not to be hurt by the cruel manner in which Bruce dealt with him. He was so strong, so compassionate and so intelligent. He might not have had Dick's grace or Jason's strength, but he had earned his place by Batman's side.

“At this point, I'm inclined to side with Tim on this one.” Bruce stated. “We don't know enough about him and he appears to have the advantage in that he does know about us. Everything thanks to The Demon Head.”

“Unless we toss him in jail or prison, we'll never be able to stop him from killing.” Dick crossed his arms over his chest.

“If he's League of Assassins we'll never keep him incarcerated.” Tim frowned. “Those guys have a tendency to free their own, especially if they are high up enough to bring this kind of planning, money and even decoys to the table. This is clearly a long-term plan that they have devoted a lot of time and energy into.”

“An excellent point. Even if they didn't do the rescuing like they did for Michael Summers, he's most likely been trained to escape even the most secure of prisons or psych wards.” Bruce agreed thoughtfully. “He came after our family specifically. He started working with my company, he dated Dick before that and he even threw his alter ego into danger to get the attention of Batman and Nightwing.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Dick frowned.

“It's possible that Ra's is trying a new tactic.” The leader of their clan shrugged. “For years, long before any of you came along, Ra's has been trying to get me to see things his way. He's tried reasoning, he's tried tricking me into it, he's tried brute force, and he even sent his daughter to seduce me into it.”

Alfred smirked as he realized just how cunning Ra's al Ghul was. It would never work of course, Bruce clung to that one rule as if it were his only life-line to the real world, but it was a good plan. He had no idea how disturbed Bruce would be upon meeting Jason again, especially with all cards on the table. Having been killed at the hands of the Joker, he came with the most reasonable argument for why lethal force should be used in cases like that of the Clown Prince of Crime. Again, it wouldn't be enough and he was grateful for that, but it was still a very clever idea.

“So what do we do?” Tim frowned. “How do we stop him from killing? Or rather, how do I stop him from killing?”

“You don't.” JT Bennet announced as he walked into the room and quickly shut the door behind him. He was dressed in the same suit and tie he'd worn when meeting the family at their manor for the first time. He had his hands shoved in his coat pockets, his stance deceptively casual. Those teal blue eyes focused intently on Bruce, avoiding Dick, Barbara, Tim and himself.

“You have some nerve coming here.” Barbara hissed from her wheel chair.

“Yes I do, and I have even more because I'm not here to do anything except threaten everyone of you.” JT smiled. “I spent hours upon hours gathering up all the shit I needed to oust every one of you and your other vigilante friends.

“So pay attention, kids. This isn't a fucking game. Bennet construction and I are here to stay. We are going to reform the Burrows if it's the last thing I do. Those cameras are going up and this city will be safer.”

“What exactly do you think you have on us?” Bruce frowned.

“Everything.” JT smiled widely. “I have all of you! Your friends, your allies, your teammates old and new! I've got Clark and Connor Kent, Roy Harper, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Barry Allen, Wally West, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Diana Prince, John Jones and of course all of your identities. There's more of course, so much more in a world full of caped crusaders taking on the baddies.

“So let's get this shit straight, right here and now. You make even one fucking move against JT Bennet or Bennet Construction and I'll give you all up. I'll shout it from the rooftops, I'll whisper it in the ears of the underworld, I'll even sing like a...” He paused as he looked at Dick and then Tim, his grin lopsided and cruel. “Like a Robin.”

“You sound like him.” Tim looked horrified.

JT's eyes snapped to the kid as his face contorted with rage. “Sound like who?”

Alfred moved between Jason and Tim before the former could do anything to break his promise. Jason simply laughed but he could tell he was backing down.

“What are you gonna do Butler? Protect him? From me? Do you even know who the fuck I am?” Alfred didn't respond because he'd finally seen what Tim had, even if some of it was ruse to keep everyone unsettled and unaware of who knew what about his true identity.

Still, did he even realize how manic he seemed to them? How much like his own murderer he was sounding? Had it been the effects of the Lazarus Pit or was he actually losing his mind? Or did he do it on purpose? Jason's face hardened and the illusion of a mad man was broken. He hoped it was because he realized that Master Drake was right.

“I'm not going to hurt him. If my goal had been to harm any of you, you'd all be dead. I'd have struck you when you couldn't defend yourselves as your alter egos.” Jason's eyes moved to the side, as if he were ashamed.

“You expect me to believe that you merely want to fix the city?” Bruce growled, sitting up and starting to get out of bed.

Alfred saw the brief flash of concern in Jason's eyes. The ousted murderer moved toward Bruce quickly, forcing the elder to stop what he was trying to do. There was almost no space between them as Jason leaned down and glared at him.

“I do want to fix this fucking city, more than you can ever know or understand.” He growled through clenched teeth. “None of you have to fucking like me, you don't even have to stop chasing me when we're all done up in our flashy costumes; but just as I won't attack your alter egos or your secret identities, you will leave mine be.”

“So if we take you down as The Red Hood, you won't give away our identities.” Timothy asked for clarification.

Dick moved closer to Tim as well when he saw Jason turn to fully face the youngest in the room. Alfred glanced to Bruce who was watching JT/Jason with confusion and anger. Barbara stayed put, but looked like she was about to pull out her taser gun, a gift from her father if Alfred remembered correctly.

“That's right. Catch me as The Red Hood, and I won't release your identities. Stop me from killing people, and I won't release your identities. But you fucking help the police link The Red Hood to JT Bennet and the entire world finds out just who the fuck is manning the Justice League, Young Justice League, Teen Titans, and all your other organizations.”

“You can't possibly think we'd let you just walk in here and blackmail us.” Barbara glared.

“And yet here I am, Babs. You gonna take a fucking shot at me with that little toy of yours?” He demanded as he opened his arms. “I'm wide open, Baby. I'll even let you take the first shot.” Jason sneered.

“You've made your point.” Bruce growled, taking the attention from Barbara and bringing it back to himself.

“Have I, B? You gonna tell Oracle to keep her damned toys to herself? Hmm?” He asked as he dropped his arms back to his sides. “Because I can promise you right here and now that if I get attacked and am not back to my computer in time to stop some revealing emails from being sent, the Bat Clan's identities go to every news outlet on the East Coast.”

“Maybe it would be worth it.” Dick hissed under his breath, and Alfred had never seen the boy look so angry before.

“Oh Blue-Bird,” Jason turned to face his ex-lover as he clutched at the center of his chest. “You'd be so quick to turn me in? After everything you and I had together?”

“You're nothing to me, JT.” Dick glared, trying to keep up a strong front.

“Good.” Jason snapped. “Guess I don't need to feel fucking guilty for prepping pictures of Dick Grayson with wanted fugitives Slade Wilson and Helena Bertinelli. I mean, you could tell your bosses you didn't know about me, but I'm pretty sure that everyone knows Slade's a criminal.”

“Why are you doing this?” Bruce demanded. “If you truly want to help this city why make us your enemy?”

Alfred saw the hurt flash across Jason's face and wondered if any of the others had seen it. It was a safe bet to assume Bruce had, but Barbara didn't have the best vantage point, Dick was too horrified by 'JT's' most recent threat and Tim was watching helplessly as this family tore itself apart with out even realizing it.

“It's called a preemptive strike, Bats.” Jason shrugged. “Had I come in and talked to you first, you'd have have tried to take me in on the spot. You don't have to like my methods, but that doesn't mean they are going to change.”

“They need to be brought to justice!” Bruce told him. “Not murdered in the streets by some self-righteous thug with a gun.”

JT smirked. “It's not just a fucking gun I use, you know? You hate the bullets so much, I can switch to the knives.”

Before Alfred knew what was happening, Dick had moved. There was a brief, silent scuffle, that ended with JT wrenching Dick's arm behind his back painfully. “You don't have the fucking heart to face me right now, Blue-Bird.” He growled loud enough for everyone to hear. “Don't you ever do something so fucking stupid again, because unlike you, I have the nerve to defend myself.”

He shoved Dick into Bruce's bed. “Nurse will probably be coming by shortly. I'm walking out that door. Don't fuck with me or my company or I swear to God, I will ruin every fucking one you and your stupid friends.”

 

* * *

 

March 3rd

1045 hrs

Crime Alley

 

He didn't return to his office or even the job site after he left the hospital; mostly because there wasn't really an email to prevent from sending. If he was honest with himself, it was also because he was scared to. It was because he was too raw after threatening Bruce and Dick and even stupid Timmy. The fucking replacement who according to Alfred's texts had fucking defended him as if they'd grown up together!

Jason punched the wall outside of the door to his hideout. His black and white hair fell into his eyes so he pushed the strands away. He took a few deep breaths and walked inside the clean apartment. Something nagged at the back of his head but all he could focus on was Bruce's face. That angry, disappointed look that he'd always been so intimately acquainted with. Even in death or disguise they'd never see eye to eye. He'd always see him as some fucked up criminal that wasn't really worth saving.

And that crippled bitch! He felt a spike of anger surge through him as he saw red. How dare she judge him? Who the fuck did she think she was? Oh! And fucking Dick? Attacking him? Like he'd just stand there and let him? Like he'd let himself melt with grief and sorrow and just be taken jail? Didn't they know anything about him?

Of course not! He gritted his teeth and grabbed painfully at the temples of his hair as he tried to calm himself. But he stood right in front of them, right fucking there! He threatened their reputations and he showed them how merciful he actually was and yet they looked at him like...Dick and Bruce stared at him in disgusted horror! Like he was nothing but...

He kicked the kitchen cabinet violently, wood splintering around his foot and breaking easily. He didn't know how he ended up in the tiled room, but he wasn't really surprised. His mind was a fucking mess and it was all Timothy's fault. He'd accused him of sounding like...

Bile rose in his throat and he bent over the sink just in case. His body trembled and he couldn't sort anything he was feeling. There was excitement, oddly enough. Adrenaline was still coursing through him at standing before his family and declaring that he was The fucking Red Hood.

Anger? That was there, too. Anger for having to threaten them, for having to make them see things his way and failing! Guilt? Way too much of that shit, but not for killing the criminals. Never that. Grief? Yep, that one had floated up there with others. His entire family was standing tall against him, united in wanting to bring him down. It wouldn't be long before Timmy and Alfred turned on him and when that happened...Fear?

Oh yes. Fear was eating at him, fear was what made him ill. Fear that Timothy had been right about him. Fear that he couldn't handle being anywhere near Bruce without always remembering his final moments. Fear that Dick would never, ever smile at him again. Fear that Alfred would wash his hands of him. Fear that everything he'd worked so hard for would end in complete and utter failure. Fear that he would end up all alone in a cell with the pitying gazes of the perfect little Wayne family centered on him. Fear that said cell would be too reminiscent of a fucking coffin that he couldn't escape.

He took a deep breath, turned off the faucet and walked over to the cabinet above the fridge. He took out the whiskey he had hidden up there and drank it like it was water. Tears fell of course, but at least he could focus on the burn in his throat instead of the burning in his heart.

He walked to his bed and frowned when that nagging feeling in the back of his head returned. His bed wasn't made. Which was odd because he always made his bed. A strange chill ran up and then down his spine as he realized the bed was made, but the mattress was off kilter. He threw the mattress off the box springs and felt his heart stop.

Glass shattered loudly beside his foot as he lost his grip on the alcohol. He didn't care. His teal eyes were focused on the missing item. The crowbar was gone. How was that possible? He tried to think rationally, tried to think about what could have happened. Maybe another one of those Killerz had followed him and stolen it? Perhaps Dick? No, Dick had no clue where this place was.

His eyes scanned the room and at once they settled on the window just a few feet from the bed. If he thought he'd been unsettled before, he'd been naive. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight or the feeling that it brought with it. His entire body trembled as he fell to his knees, his skin paling as he focused on the dirty window pane. Finger painted into the grime and dust of the glass were the words 'Ha Ha Ha!' along with a wide smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah...please done hate me. I really did my bet here and I hope you enjoy where this is all headed. Thanks for the continued support! You guys really are the best!


	28. Coming Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long, long time since I posted and I am so sorry, but I hope this chapter makes up for it. I am finally in Texas, but not in the house yet. Have to stay at an extended stay until it's finished. There may be a lot of typos and for that I apologize, but I'm trying to get used to this new lap top and the keys are very...different. Anyhow, enjoy! Please enjoy, please like this chapter, lol. I feel very off my game so while I ask you to like it, if you don't, politely tell me so. I don't want to disappoint any of you.

Chapter 28

 

March 3rd

0917 hrs

Bruce's Hospital Room

 

As the nurse left, neither movement nor sound returned to the room. They all remained as still and silent as they'd been when JT Bennet had left the room after threatening to destroy their lives and that of their friends and teammates. Bruce's recovery was going fine according to the nurse but she had been a bit spooked by the somber mood of those present. She left with a reminder to call if she was needed, but at most Bruce Wayne simply glanced her way.

They were all broken in some form or another over the situation. Everyone of them were angry, there was no doubt about that. How could they be anything but? The Bat Clan of Gotham had stood as stoic sentinels over the city for nearly two decades. In the greater scheme of things, it might not seem like more than a blink of an eye when compared to the entire history of the land, but for mortals such as they were, it was so much more. For Bruce it had been half of his life that he'd devoted himself to. For Dick, Barbara, and Timothy the Batman had been around for nearly all of theirs.

The greatest villains they'd faced had never come so close to tearing the clan apart. That it was a man who thought himself a hero was probably the most astounding to the group of five. JT Bennet, or Jason Todd to two of them, honestly believed he was good for the city and just as necessary as any of them were.

Dick couldn't speak, or perhaps it's that he wouldn't speak for fear of what he might say. He'd managed to keep the tears at bay as well as the flush of embarrassment when he'd failed to physically take JT down. He still felt the loss too keenly, but more than sadness, he felt fury.

He was furious over everything. He hadn't slept the night before and he was dead tired, but the rage was keeping him on his feet. For hours he'd thought about everything and while he still hurt and grieved over the loss of a man he'd so nearly fallen in love with, he wanted nothing more than to put him behind bars. He'd thought about it for too long the night before and nothing about JT Bennet was redeemable in his eyes.

While Dick brooded Barbara tried to plan, tried to think of anything to keep their identities safe. The young woman was beside herself and placing most of the guilt on her own shoulders. If she had just looked deeper, if she'd only seen the signs; could she have changed anything? Could she have prevented the catastrophic event that had just taken place? Would the teams and leagues that they all had worked so hard to build and create be in danger? She couldn't change the past, but she was going to ensure the future of the teams. She would bring him down.

Timothy Drake stared at his phone, stared at the message Alfred had sent him before Jason's unexpected arrival. _Not yet._ Two simple words that had silenced him. He still didn't know if it was right that he and Alfred kept such a large secret from the family, but he couldn't feel guilty over it and he genuinely hoped Alfred didn't either.

The young teenager loved Bruce, Barbara and Dick with all his heart. They were his family, they were his support system, but was Jason Todd supposed to be a part of all that? He knew Jason was reeling in pain, he'd seen it in the older man's broken teal gaze. The others might think he was a soulless monster, but Tim understood him with a clarity he hadn't expected. He planned immediately to seek the man out, to try to reason with him, because if anyone understood neglect and rejection, it was him.

Meanwhile Bruce internally analyzed how JT Bennet had outplayed and outmaneuvered him. There was nothing more he could do about it, not without risking their identities. The Batman had been so angry he nearly jumped out of his bed to wrestle him to the ground and have him arrested. Of course, looking back he could see where that was a foolish plan, but there was just something about Bennet that brought out the worst in him, that made him impatient and confrontational.

It wasn't as if Bruce hadn't picked up on some oddities, however. The young man had been as emotional as Tim tried to tell them prior. Also, Alfred had texted someone and within fifteen to twenty minutes JT Bennet had stormed the castle so to speak. He nearly grimaced at the realization that he was suspecting Alfred of betraying him. He had to be out of his mind if he was truly afraid that he couldn't trust his oldest friend. He needed to make sure the nurse wasn't giving him any more pain medications.

For several more minutes no one dared to break the silence, each of them dealing with the situation in their own way. Eventually however, someone would have to say something or simply leave and that was recognized first by Tim.

“I'm gonna head back home, there's a lot I need to take care of.” He announced.

Alfred nodded and looked to Bruce. “I will take Master Drake home, if you don't mind. Would you like us to return for dinner?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. If I really want to recover, I can't keep stressing over this.” Everyone in the room frowned and stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. He could feel the concern and disapproval from each of them. “I am going to fix this, but obviously, that's something I am not healthy enough to do right now. The sooner I am better, the sooner I can get out there again.”

Reluctantly Tim and Alfred nodded while Dick and Barbara exchanged worried glances. Dick for one would not be buying Bruce's story and unbeknownst to him, Alfred had no intention of leaving the man alone that evening either. Both seemed to believe that Bruce was up to something and unfortunately for him, he wouldn't get the peace he claimed to want.

As everyone slowly filed out of the room, Barbara texted Dr. Thompkins and requested that Bruce Wayne continue to receive the necessary amounts of pain management no matter what he asked. The good doctor swore that she would see to it that Bruce remained on his back and in the bed until it was safe for him to leave.

Once Bruce was alone he pulled out his cell phone and made a call. It rang several times before it was finally picked up. The old man's voice was as foreboding and strong as ever. “Good morning, Detective, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“JT Bennet.” Bruce growled. “I want to know everything. And don't bother to deny he is one of yours.”

The man on the other side of the phone laughed softly. “Why would I deny an exceptional talent like Mr. Bennet? Other than that, there isn't really much to tell you about him, Detective.”

“He's a local, Ra's. No one loves Gotham like that kid does except locals.” Bruce countered.

“Oh I don't know about that...”

“Not enough to taint their souls for it.”

“You assume the young man in question even has a soul.” Ra's chuckled.

“This isn't a game.” If it had been anyone but the leader of a group of assassin's, Bruce's intimidating tone might have worked.

“No Detective, it's not.” Ra's sighed. “Which is why I am not at liberty to divulge any information about him. Use that keen intellect of yours and find out for yourself.”

“He's threatening to give away the secret identities of every vigilante out there!” Bruce snarled.

“Then it appears that I have taught him well.” The assassin smirked. “The only thing I can tell you is that he was an eager student and much more receptive than many of his original teachers believed.”

“Is that supposed to be a clue?” Bruce sneered irritably.

“Yes, and damned good one at that. Good luck, Detective.” Ra's answered before hanging up and leaving Bruce to contemplate what he'd just learned.

 

* * *

 

March 4th

0126 hrs

Luck was on his side that night. Robin had found The Red Hood investigating the original Arkham Asylum, no doubt searching for the weapons all those weeks ago that Labrum had hidden. He probably wasn't aware that the Joker was loose or he doubted he'd be snooping around. Robin had patrolled opposite of the Hood, hoping to catch any signs of the killer clown before confronting Jason. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to find a single sign of him.

He wasn't entirely certain how he was going to start up a conversation with his predecessor but he knew he needed to at least try. There was something wrong with him and not just in the obvious ways. Jason Todd, JT Bennet or The Red Hood, all three personas were off kilter, but Tim couldn't help but worry that he was getting worse. That and he really wanted to make sure that Jason knew that the Joker had escaped New Arkham.

As he crept inside of the crumbling building, Tim wondered if Jason might be losing his grip on his sanity due to the impressive amount of stress he had to be under. Keeping up so many secrets for someone as emotionally charged and up front as Jason Todd could not be a simple thing. Everyone said he'd worn his heart on his sleeve and that it was never a mystery what he was thinking or feeling and yet for months he'd been hiding everything about himself.

Tim ducked just in time before the heavy fist caught him in the jaw. He twirled low and tried to sweep the bigger man's legs, but The Red Hood jumped and twisted in the air, landing safely away from the kick. As quickly as he could Tim moved out of the taller, heavier vigilante's striking range. Taking a hit from Jason wasn't an option, not if he wanted to succeed in his mission.

“What the fuck is your problem, Replacement?” He dodged another attempt by The Red Hood to grab or punch him. “Do you have a fucking death wish?”

“No way _he_ would protect you if he thought you were capable of hurting me.” Tim countered as he turned to face the man who had been standing behind him.

“You're the one that ducked like you _thought_ I'd hurt you.” He crossed his arms over his shoulders and leaned against one of the more stable walls of the building. Tim noted that he was wearing the helmet this time and that he was in the black, white and red leathers. Then again, Tim currently had his brown jacket at home. “Isn't it a bit past your bedtime?”

He started to calm himself as he watched Jason's body language. He didn't appear to be in a foul mood and he'd yet to come after him again. Perhaps he misunderstood the first time, perhaps he had only intended to grab him. With Jason or The Hood, either outcome was in the realm of possibilities.

“Seriously, how the fuck do you keep straight A's when I know for a fact you are getting less than six hours of sleep at night?” He noted the jealousy and bitterness in Jason's voice, but chose not to let it get to him. The only thing he took from it was the conscious realization that the man wasn't using his voice modifier.

“Set any more traps?” He asked and hoped he didn't sound near as nervous as he felt.

“Recon. No traps.” Jason's voice growled again. “So do I need to start running? You gonna call Nightwing or the cops?”

“No.” Tim shook his head.

“You don't think you're good enough to take me in by yourself do you?” He snickered.

“Actually, I'm here to talk to you.” Tim explained.

“Fuck off, Replacement, I don't need your shit.”

“But _he_ does? How can you ask him to keep that secret! How can you ask him to lie!” Tim demanded, knowing Jason would understand that he was talking about Alfred, or at least trusting that he would. “You have no idea the position you're placing him in.”

He didn't have time to evade as The Red Hood shot forward and grabbed him violently by the collar of his costume. The back of his head and his entire back slammed into a wall before he felt Jason's forearm pressing against the front of his throat, effectively pinning him. He struggled against both the hold and his own fear that he'd severely miscalculated Jason's mindset.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Robin.” Jason growled menacingly. “Don't you ever risk his identity by talking about him in the field again, got it?”

Tim tried to nod his head, but he couldn't move to well, that was until Jason removed his arm and let him fall to the ground. He gasped for air and failed to keep himself from coughing. “I didn't...” He took a deep breath. “I didn't come to fight.”

“Then what the fuck are you here for?”

“To warn you.” He coughed but forced himself to get back on his feet. “The Joker, he's escaped New Arkham.”

“Well no shit. What the fuck do you think I'm doing here?”

“Looking for Black Mask's guns?” Tim frowned. “How did you know about-

“He sent me a message.” The Hood snarled and turned his back on Tim before continuing down the hall.

“A message?” He tilted his head and took several steps to catch up with him. “So he figured out your identity?”

“Must have.” Jason shrugged.

“Which one?” Tim asked, suddenly confused. “Who'd he send a message to? J-

Once again he found himself slammed and pinned him up against a sturdy wall. “Shut your fucking trap! I'm not going to warn you again.” He snarled in a hushed tone, the shining red helmet reflecting Tim's own frightened face back at him.

“But you're in danger! Can't you see that?” He whispered softly.

A dark, humorless chuckle came from the helmet as The Hood shook his head. “You expect me to believe you care?” He asked softly as he continued his search; stepping in and out of small rooms or offices as he did so. “Anything happens to me and you and all the other vigilantes of the world are safe.”

“Please,” Tim tried again as he continued to move by his side. “you don't understand. The Joker is dangerous, he could kill you!”

“He already has, you little shit!” Jason roared.

Tim tried not to flinch, but how could he not? Whatever control the older man had was severely slipping and it was going to put them both in danger if Tim didn't figure out a way to calm him down. He needed to talk to him, he needed to reason with him.

A loud crashing sound followed by manic laughter forced a chill down Tim's spine and he immediately touched his ear piece. “Nightwing, I've got Joker and The Hood in Old Arkham, requesting back-up immediately!”

“Coward.” Jason sneered, and for a moment, Tim wasn't entirely sure who he was referring to. He actually got the strange feeling that Jason was calling himself a coward, but without being able to read his expressions, he couldn't be sure. Either way, the former Robin walked slowly toward the sound of the Jokers cackle.

“Shouldn't we come up with a plan?” Tim whispered to him.

“I have a plan, it's kill the Joker while you get the fuck out of here.” He answered as he pulled his guns from the holsters wrapped around his thighs.

“You can't kill him! Remember our code!” Tim insisted.

Jason whirled on him and after a loud ear piercing pop, followed by a sharp sting in his left arm, everything went black.

 

****

Dick raced toward the building, following Robin's beacon as a guide. He could hear gunfire being exchanged as he approached. He knew the Joker and The Red Hood were in the decaying asylum, but that didn't mean others weren't in there either. He entered through the front of the building since it was closest to Tim's location.

For the past thirteen minutes, Tim had been completely silent. Even if he was unconscious from a blow that was a dangerously long time. He had to find him first and then he'd worry about JT and Joker. He remained alert as he followed Oracle's directions through the dark labyrinth. Ominous laughter filled the air before three loud pops rang out. Silence followed and briefly, Dick felt sick at the thought that his ex had just killed the clown.

“He should be right in front of you.” Oracle announced.

A shrill and obscenely joyous laugh sounded and then an unidentifiable crunching sound came after. He tried to focus on what he was looking at, but a sickening thud started to repeat itself. They couldn't be more then ten feet away, possibly in a neighboring room. He stared for what felt like minutes at the large medical supply cabinets in front of him, as he realized why the sound was making him ill.

He ignored Robin briefly as he turned on his heel and ran toward the sound of what was most likely a man being beaten to death with a blunt object. He found himself in a room diagonally across from the one he'd been in, watching Joker strike a still mass below him. He didn't hesitate as he pulled out a batarang and let it fly.

The object smashed right into the clown's face before he dropped the...Oh God, it was a crowbar(!), down once more. He cried out in alarm, dropping the weapon in favor of his face. As Dick ran forward to help who he could only assume was JT to his feet, the mass moved. He swept the clown's feet out from under him and jumped atop him, his hand reaching for his dagger.

Dick threw a second batarang just before JT raised the wavy blade into the air. As it, too, struck it's target, JT rolled away from the clown and himself. His movements were slow and sloppy, hinting that he'd been injured during the altercation with the Clown.

“What a night this has been, eh?” Joker laughed as he slowly rose to his feet. “It's a shame it has to end here, it was shaping up to be the best kind of reunion.”

“You're going back to prison, Joker.” Dick stated firmly. With a man like the Joker you couldn't show your fear and you had to be as assertive as possible. “You and The Hood.”

“Oh, I get the feeling my little protege here is going to have something else in mind.” The deranged clown giggled.

JT ripped the busted, cracked and dented helmet off his face as he roared and ran at Joker. In those short seconds, Dick noticed several things at once. One, JT was most likely alive only because of his red helmet which had taken several blows from the crude weapon. Two, nothing seemed to effect JT like being compared to Joker as made evident by his blind fury. Three, Joker hadn't intended to actually kill The Hood if he'd hit the helmet more than anywhere else. And four, his ex had every intention of killing the clown if he could.

In a sick sort of slow motion, Dick was helpless to watch as Joker let his weight fall back allowing The Red Hood to seemingly take control of the situation. They fell hard to the ground and their was a glint of metal before it it was plunged between the protective armor of The Red Hood's jacket. They rolled from the force and speed at which JT had run.

Nightwing pulled his eskrima sticks and charged the Joker, knowing the uninjured criminal would be the one rolling to his feet. The clown however laughed it off and took off running down the hall. He gave chase, moving as fast as he could until Oracle shouted at him for what must have been the dozenth time.

“Nightwing!” She repeated. “Nightwing!”

He stopped pursuing the monster and took several deep breaths. He'd nearly followed him out of the building, possibly into a trap. No one could screw up the Bat Clan like Joker could. They had all fallen for his traps in the past, even Batman, but tonight there wouldn't be anyone to help him out of a sticky situation if he didn't fair any better than The Red Hood had. Besides,he needed to get back to Timothy and get JT to a hospital before he threw him in jail.

“I'm here Oracle.”

“Thank God, what happened? Where's Robin?”

“The Red Hood was stabbed by Joker and I haven't...” He cringed with guilt as he turned back to get them. “I haven't found Robin yet. I got distracted by Joker and The Hood.”

As he came back to the room The Hood had been in, he was irritated but not at all surprised to find that the asshole was gone. He sighed and walked back to the large metal cabinet in the other room. He pulled open the doors and felt his heart stop.

“He's unconscious and bleeding. Left arm. Looks like someone put a tourniquet on the wound. Gun shot wound, most likely.” Dick's voice trembled as he seriously wondered which psycho had shot his little brother. He knew who had tended to him, though, and maybe that was more important than whether or not Tim had gotten in the middle of the crossfire.

“Batmobile's ETA is four minutes. Doc's on standby at the Cave.” Oracle relayed calmly, but he knew she was just as pissed off and afraid as he was.

 

* * *

 

March 4th

0206hrs

Bullock's Condo

 

He woke from a deep sleep with a loud gasp. His black out curtains prevented any light from coming through the windows, but they had crashed into the floor, waking him from a much needed sleep. Cold air swept through the room, making him grateful for the thick flannel pajama bottoms he was wearing in place of his usual boxers.

It took several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the limited light but when they did, he saw a man laying on the floor, clutching his side. He scrambled out of his bed and turned the lights on. Blinking back the brightness he also reached for the gun in his nightstand between his kind sized bed and the wall he was standing beside.

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” He growled as he stepped closer, his blue eyes taking in the sight of a young male sprawled out on his wood floors, blood staining his hands and torso.

“Sorry Man, you were the only one I could think of.” His eyes widened as he looked down at JT fucking Bennet. The young man's black and white hair were matted with sweat and his skin was turning dangerously pale. “I need, I need help. No cops, no hospitals.”

“Jesus.” Bullock sighed as he set his gun down and walked over to the young man. “I don't know what you want me to do? I ain't a fucking doctor!”

As he knelt beside the kid he noted the odd clothing he was wearing, but before he could focus on that, Bennet started trembling. “That's just the sh-shock.” His guest grumbled irritably. “D-Don't mind m-me as I lay here and d-die.”

Harvey jumped up and grabbed his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1 while he used his free hand to put pressure on the wound. “Yeah I have a medical emergency.” He told the operator and gave her the address. “He's been stabbed and he's going into shock. I _am_ a cop, but yeah go ahead and send them.”

He took instructions from the medically trained operator, propping the kid's feet up with two of his pillows when he finally realized what the kid was wearing. “Hurry please, my phone's dying.” He then released the call and powered the phone down so that they couldn't call back. “You fucking shit...”

Dressed in a red cotton hoodie beneath a black and white leather jacket, plus tactical pants, SWAT boots, and oh my God, how did he miss the fucking guns strapped to his damned thighs. He moved quickly, stripping the young man out of his clothes as quickly as he could. JT didn't help much, but he didn't resist either. Maybe it's because he was losing consciousness, he reasoned with himself.

As soon as he had him down to his black boxers, Bullock grabbed the kids things and ran them to a trunk he kept in a spare bedroom. He then ran to the living room and unlocked the door so that he could yell for the paramedics to come in without needing to leave the kid's side again. He then ran quickly back to JT and gently slapped the side of his face.

“Wake up, JT, come on, Kid.” He requested as he again placed pressure on the wound. He knew it was a dangerous thing to do, keeping his identity a secret, but he just had a feeling the kid would rather die than be found out, otherwise he'd have gone straight to a hospital instead of his place.

Teal eyes looked up at him and then a crooked smile formed across his young face. “I used to have such a crush on you.”

Never, in his entire life had Bullock been hit on by a guy before. He felt his face flush red all the way under his beard and with a pained groan he realized the best explanation he'd have for this situation. “Used to? We've only known each other for a few weeks, Bennet.” He muttered.

Flattered though he was, Bullock was not gay. He was straight and always had been. There had been one or two extremely brief moments where he'd caught himself checking a guy or two out in his teen years, but that had more to do with a low self-esteem and a need to measure up than it did any bi-curious thoughts.

Part of him was angry, angry that JT Bennet, that seemingly down to Earth millionaire turned out to be a psychopathic murderer. That angry part was also disgusted that he'd offered up two names to the police, especially since those two men had wound up dead. That puke had looked him right in the eyes and lied to him.

Another part of him, the part that had agreed to work with The Red Hood to begin with, understood. At least a little bit. It was as much his own fault as it was JT's that Hunter and Harris had been murdered by Kitzky, after all. Damned police department shouldn't have been corrupt enough to warrant all these crazy vigilantes. He just hoped the bastard on the floor felt as guilty as he had for those two guys being killed.

“Paramedics!” A man shouted.

“And police!” A woman called out immediately after.

“Yeah I'm back here!” Harvey yelled and saw the kid's eyes snap open as he tried to sit up. “Easy, JT, it's alright. They won't know. I swear.” He whispered as he heard at least four people enter his apartment as well as what was most likely a gurney.

“Harvey?” He looked behind him to see one of the beat cops he suspected of being tied to Black Mask. Her name was Amber Hill. She had long blonde hair that she kept tied and tucked under her hat. She was short, only a few inches over fight feet and very skinny.

The two paramedics, a couple of Hispanic guys he'd seen often enough at car wrecks, immediately moved to Bennet's side after they parked the gurney to the side of them. They took over and allowed/asked Harvey to move back so that they could work on him. The first grabbed a clipboard and started writing down everything the one doing the physical examination said. They moved quickly and carefully.

“What?” Harvey demanded after she said his name again. He didn't know much about her partner since he wasn't on the list, but he was almost opposite of her in every way physically save for age, they were both in their twenties most likely. He was over six feet tall with dark ebony skin and looked like a body builder. The man hadn't said a thing, just watched what the paramedics were doing while he occasionally said something into the radio on his shoulder.

“Isn't that...” She blushed as she looked to her partner. “Isn't that Dick Grayson's boyfriend?”

“Name and Birth-date?” The paramedic with the clipboard asked. When the detective looked down he was alarmed to see that JT appeared unconscious, which was probably why the paramedic was asking him questions.

“It's uh, the 25th of August, can't remember the year for sure.” Harvey answered, ignoring Hill outright. “Name's JT Bennet.”

“Any medications or illnesses we need to know about?” He followed up.

“Not that I know of, no.” Harvey frowned.

“Allergies?”

“I don't know,” He realized early that he'd need to stick close to JT. He couldn't let Amber get to close. God knows what Black Mask had on her or if she was simply working for him, but he couldn't risk her bringing him more harm.

“No allergies.” JT rasped. “No medications. Just stabbed.”

“What the Hell happened, Detective?” Amber snapped.

“Watch yourself, Officer.” Harvey nearly shouted back. “You may not approve of my bed partners, but that doesn't give you the right to speak to a superior office that way. You want mine and JT's statement you meet us at the hospital.”

“Let's get him out of here.” The paramedic doing the exam told his partner. Harvey could see that a dressing had been applied and then taped on three sides and at once he felt a small amount of fear. There wasn't a lot of red seeping through which meant that the wound had either stopped bleeding or he was simply running out of blood. There was a lot of it on the floor all around him. Together they lifted him and placed him upon the gurney before strapping him down.

“You coming Detective?”

“Of course.” Harvey nodded. He made sure the beat cops left in front of them before locking up and following the paramedics to the waiting ambulance.

****

Jason frowned as he woke up, staring at the bright lights of a hospital room and all it's equipment. He blinked slowly, realizing his hand was being held by another man's, someone strong and warm. His hands felt like ice. Was it Bruce? He shook that thought off and dared to look because he damned sure knew it wasn't Dick and he didn't want to think about why he was (hoping) thinking it was his former mentor.

“Harvey?” He frowned in confusion. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Calm down, Hon.” Harvey's blue eyes cut right and Jason immediately followed his gaze to a petite blonde and a fucking giant. Both were in uniforms. “I know you didn't want people finding out yet, especially since your still technically with Grayson.”

“Fuck Grayson, we broke up, I told you we broke up!” He snapped and then sighed, deciding he needed to make the show at least somewhat believable. He didn't know what was going on but he could fake like he did. “God you think I'd lie to you, Harv? Now what the fuck happened? How did I get here?”

“That's what we were hoping you could tell us.” The smaller cop stated as she stepped forward. “I need to get a statement from both of you as soon as possible.”

“When I have one to give, you'll get it.” He snarled between his teeth only to feel Harvey squeeze his hand tightly.

“Hey, they're just trying to do their job. I already told them that I couldn't give them my statement until I knew you were okay.” Harvey explained.

“I'm on painkillers, last time I was on painkillers and I gave a statement to the cops, two of my workers were murdered by a detective. Fuck off until I'm released.” Jason waved his hands in the air and then covered his eyes against the pain in his head, because he wasn't quite lying about the pain killers thing. He was feeling loopy and loose lipped, which was the last thing he wanted to be. He had to be on a generous dose, because this felt worse than when he'd been beaten by Black Mask.

“Guys, come by in the morning and we'll get you your statements.” Harvey had yet to release his hand and Jason hated how much comfort he took in the action. Not because he was attracted to him or anything, but because it made him feel...Like how Alfred made him feel and sometimes how Bruce had made him feel.

Thankfully neither officer argued as they left the room. Bullock stood up immediately, the warmth of his connection disappearing instantaneously as he locked the door behind them. He then watched as Harvey took his seat beside him again, but didn't bother to take any kind of 'affectionate' action toward him. That was probably a good thing, considering how high Jason was feeling.

“What happened? We need to get out stories straight.” Harvey asked in a very calm, very quiet tone.

“Got stabbed by a fucking clown.” He answered honestly. “I didn't, I didn't have anywhere else to go and you were the closest allie.”

“So you broke into my place? You know I have to doctor up the whole scene as soon as possible?” Bullock hissed, more so to keep his voice down than out of any real hostility.

.“What did I have on me?”

“Everything but the helmet.” Harvey glared pointedly.

Jason's eyes widened. He had a feeling he'd blown his cover, but at the same time he'd hoped that somehow he'd managed to conceal it, but then he'd lost a lot of blood and hadn't been thinking straight. Fucking Hell, he couldn't think straight _now_!  
“Relax, I hid it all and once I go home, I'll be able to hide it better and make sure the crime-scene doesn't point to anything too incriminating.” Harvey sighed. “Look, we'll tell the guys you and I have had a thing since your first time in the hospital and that one of Black Mask's assassin snuck in through the window and stabbed you. You got up and they ran back out the window and I woke up just as they left.”

“Seems simple enough. Black Mask's assassin's are pretty good.” He acknowledged. The cops wouldn't buy it, he didn't think, but it was still a plausible scenario. “You okay with faking a gay relationship, Detective?”

Come to think of it, that was pretty fucking smart. He wasn't sure he could have thought that quickly on his feet, but then again, he wasn't capable of thinking much at the moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sleep sounded so, so good. Maybe he could get a nap in and fuck everyone else and the stupid fucking Joker.

“Look, JT, I need to know what really happened. I also need to figure out what the fuck to do about Grayson because this isn't going to look good or be good for either of us.” Harvey sighed.

“I really did break up with Dick.” Jason told him, keeping his eyes closed.

“Why?”

“Because he's a dick.” He answered and then giggled, because come on. That was fucking funny.

“Wow, the painkillers really aren't your friends, are they?” He peaked over at Harvey who was running his hands over his face like he was exhausted. “So what really happened?”

“I was hunting down the Joker, wanted to go after Black Mask, but Joker left me a calling card at one of my hide-outs.” Jason shrugged. “So I get out to the asylum and fucking Robin shows up.”

He tried to not sneer but seriously what the fuck was with that little shit-head? Did he have a fucking death-wish? It was hard to forget the fear in his heart when he heard the Joker's laughter, but having Robin around made it worse. What if Joker got him? What if he beat him to death with that fucking crow bar and made him watch? It had seemed a silly fear even then, but at the moment it was a horrifying thought.

“Robin said some stupid ass comment and suddenly there was fucking Joker, standing behind him like some God damned reaper. I shot at the same time as that fucked up piece of shit.” Jason knew he was swearing a lot more than normal, but he was just trying to get the fucking story out. “I was fucking sure I had him, still think I did, but he got Robin. Right in his fucking wing.”

“Where'd you hit the Joker?” Harvey asked calmly, and his voice made Jason feel just a little bit better.

“Fuck if I know, but I know I got him because the fuck-head just fucking ran off. He don't run when he's got the advantage.” Jason assured him. “Then I noticed just...fuck loads of blood gushing right out his fucking arm. Ripped my undershirt and put a fucking turnip, wait no...

“Tourniquet?” Harvey chuckled.

“Yeah, fuck these meds.” Jason grumbled. “So I fucking stowed him away and pressed his fucking 'R' so Nightwing's perfect ass could come and rescue the little shit.” He paused and frowned. “Can't believe I let him get to me again.”

He jumped when he felt the older man's hand wrap around his again. “You okay, JT?”

Jason shook his head. “Nope. Got nowhere to go. Broke it off with Dick cause he can't handle figuring all this shit out. Lost my good hide-out to that fucking freak and got stabbed after...”

“JT?”

“Can you not...” Jason took a deep breath. “Let's just drop it, okay? I don't do fucking vulnerable and I hate....all this shit.” God he felt like such a pussy. He'd get that damned clown, he'd get him good.

“Hey, you just get some rest alright. I'm gonna run back to my place, grab some clothes and make sure the area's cleaned up.”

“You'll come back though, right?” Jason cringed at the way he sounded. So desperate and afraid; fucking drugs! Never again. No wonder Bruce tried to delay the inevitable for so long. He needed to toughen up and stop being such a little bitch; and yet...“Please?”

Harvey's blue eyes widened a fraction and then he stared at him for a good long moment. He had no clue what was going through the detective's head but his features softened and he slowly nodded his auburn haired head. As he rose he ran his fingers through Jason's hair and the feeling was calming and far too comforting for his own good. “Yeah, JT, I'll come right back. I promise. Just close your eyes and when you open them again, I'll be here.”

 

* * *

 

March 4th

0245hrs

Wayne Manor

 

“You can't stop me from patrolling, Dick! It was just a graze! The Hood completely overreacted when he put the tourniquet on, Dr. Thompkins said so herself!” Tim shouted angrily as he stood in front of his brother. A brother who had just forbid him from patrolling for the next few weeks.

“It was more than just a graze, you passed out from the blood loss. Besides, Tim this is becoming a pattern, and I don't think it has anything to do with the lack of training or even the men you are up against.” Dick lectured, still standing in his Nightwing uniform. “You've lost focus and it's gotten you into trouble three or four times this year.”

Tim's heart hammered in his chest as he listened to his brother bring up every injury he'd received for the past twelve months, punctuating angrily on each time that The Red Hood himself had either delivered the injury or rescued him from said injury.

“That last one doesn't count! I wasn't even in costume, it was a ransom and blackmail attempt. Black Mask even went after Alfred on that one, too!” Tim argued.

They both stood toe to toe in the large Batcave, Tim fighting desperately for his freedom while he knew Dick believed he was fighting for Tim's safety. Unfortunately for Dick, Tim was for more stubborn than he was often given credit for. He was not going to be kept under house arrest just because Dick didn't know how to deal with the fact that his boyfriend turned out to be a blood-crazed vigilante.

He felt for Dick, he really did. Finding out a man you loved was also the man who crippled one of your best friends and killed a man right in front of you couldn't be easy, but that didn't give him the right to lock him away. Especially since he had a better grasp on what was really happening with 'JT' than Dick did.

“You keep putting yourself in dangerous situations, Timmy and I'm not going to let anything happen to you!” Dick insisted, clearly trying to calm down as he lowered his voice. “You could have been killed by either man tonight, but that's not the real point.”

“Then what is?” He snapped impatiently.

“You willfully disobeyed my orders, Tim! We agreed that going after Red Hood or Joker was not to happen until we came up with a plan as a team! All of us! You, me, Bruce and Barbara.”

He ignored his older brother as he walked over to the showers. He couldn't stop him from getting out and nothing was going to convince him that he was wrong in trying to warn Jason. Even if he had already known about Joker. The idea that he might not have known would have haunted him for the rest of his life if the clown had gotten the best of his predecessor.

“I know you think you did the right thing, and you did, but I won't have you risking your life for some-

“Some guy who's now saved my life on four different occasions? Some guy who rescued Bruce and then talked him into getting the life saving surgery he needed? Some guy who saved your life?” Tim countered. “I know he screwed us over, but he's just trying to protect himself the only way he knows how while still managing to keep us alive!”

“Since when are you on his side? When did you decide his methods were acceptable?” Dick frowned, his bright blue eyes filled confusion. “We don't kill, Timothy and we certainly don't condone other vigilante's who do!”

“I do not condone anything he does to the criminals he catches, Dick. I'm not saying I'm on his side, either. There's just something else going on here and you and Bruce and Barbara are to blinded by your own drama to see it!” He continued to argue as he slowly stripped out of his Robin suit.

His brother's eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly does that mean?”

“From the beginning I've insisted that this is someone we know, someone we've either worked closely with or someone we trained. Why is that, Dick? What put that in my head?” Tim sighed, wishing he could just spit it out.

“But you were wrong!” Dick shouted. “I've never met JT prior to all this.”

Rolling his eyes Tim finished undressing as he debated on how to respond. “You sure about that, Dick? Or do you just not want to see what's so clearly sitting under your nose?”  
He stepped into one of the four shower stalls and closed the curtain before Dick could say anything else, but he simply couldn't resist getting one more thing off his chest. “And you can't ground me, Dick. Only Alfred or Bruce can do that.”

He thought for sure that Dick would argue or fight back, but instead he walked away from the showers and most likely back to Alfred and Dr. Thompkins. He didn't know how Alfred kept this secret from the people he loved most. He wasn't sure if it was hurting the old butler or making him feel guilty. All he knew was that if Alfred was even half as frustrated with the secret keeping as he was, he must be pretty close to caving.

Bruce's health and Dick's mental health were the only two reasons he even bothered keeping his mouth shut. He truly believed that helping Jason should be their top priority and that if everyone knew, he'd get more quality help. Clearly the man under the red hood wanted nothing to do with him personally.

When he finished showering, he was relieved to find that Dick, Alfred and Dr. Thompkins weren't anywhere to be seen. He ran up to his room, warm and comfortable in his pajamas. After he was sure the curtains were closed and his bedroom door was locked, Tim went to his closet and pulled out the large brown leather jacket that Jason had wrapped him up in two or three days ago.

He carefully put it on before he sat at the desk beside his bed, feeling all the warmer and just a little safer. Not that he'd ever tell the others, but he liked the smell of cigarettes and sweat. It reminded him a lot of Jason's personal Robin suit he'd worn when he was Bruce's young partner. He'd opened the case once, just to touch it and was surprised by how much of the scent it had held.

There was so much he wanted to ask Jason when he first started training, and so much more that he simply wished to tell him now. So he grabbed a sheet of paper and pen and wrote out a concise and honest letter to Jason Todd. It was highly unlikely that he'd ever give it to him, not like he'd read it if he did, but it felt good to get it off his chest.

With a yawn he folded up the letter and then smiled at a sudden idea. The Hood would definitely want his jacket back some day. He placed the letter in the inside zipped pocket of the jacket and then turned off the light before he crawled into bed. With a quiet prayer, plea, or request, his last thought before drifting to sleep was of Jason and his sincere hope that the former Robin was okay despite the wound he'd received from Joker.

 

* * *

 

 

March 4th

1130 hrs

Gotham General

 

Harvey was stretched out over the uncomfortable recliner in JT's hospital room, flipping channels while the kid snoozed. He'd managed to get a couple hours of sleep, but he'd never really slept well in hospitals. The night had been long, but he'd done everything he promised the kid. He made sure the scene looked suspiciously clean. He'd also readjusted his story, or at least the one he'd have JT and himself tell the others.

He looked over at the sleeping man and frowned at the realization of just how young he was. JT's brows were furrowed almost angrily, his mouth opened just a tiny bit. Most people looked peaceful when they were deep in sleep, but leave it to the perpetually scowling JT Bennet to look angry even while he slumbered.

There was a soft knock on the door, so he forced himself out of the make-shift bed, tossing the blankets haphazardly onto JT. He wasn't at all surprised to see Jim Gordon standing there alone. The man looked confused, a little angry and mostly worried. That was like his default setting though, so Harvey wasn't inclined to panic just yet.

“What happened?” He asked softly his eyes settling on Bennet. “And don't feed me some cock and bull story about how you and the kid are in a relationship. I know you better than that Bullock.”

“How do you know all them prostitutes aren't just for show?” Harvey snickered.

“Bullock.” The commissioner growled.

“The kid's tough, you know?” Harvey sighed. “He's smart, too. Knew Kitzky couldn't be trusted, that's why we had to go through Officer Grayson to get the names of men he suspected might be the vigilante.”

“What's your point, Harvey?” Jim frowned as he shook his head. “What the Hell happened last night?”

“One of Black Mask's assassins attacked him. He just managed to get away from him and he came to the only clean cop he could trust.” Harvey insisted.

“Why didn't he go to Grayson?” Jim asked.

“Too far away from his work site and he just broke up with the guy, Gordon. He was scared of running into the wrong kind of help. He'd just survived being attacked at his site office, he wasn't going to risk his life further by trusting the wrong people.”

“So why lie about him being your boyfriend?” Jim frowned. “Why not just tell the cops that.”

“Because it was the only way to explain why a half naked twenty one year old was bleeding in my apartment.” Harvey frowned.

“So you doctored the crime scene?” Jim hissed, his old eyes narrowing. “Damn it, Harv, you've gone too far with this!”

“No I haven't! So long as this kid is alive, I've done everything necessary.” Harvey insisted, needing Jim to understand. “Look, you like helping out those vigilantes, you do what you can to protect them. We all know it! Well, this kid isn't a vigilante, but he's a hero none the less. Look at what he's trying to do for this city. Who better to help protect than him?”

“Black Mask will know that he was hit elsewhere, he'll just tell his people and then any moles in the department will know that the kid doesn't trust any of us but you.” Jim warned.

“Not necessarily. The guy who performed the hit?” Harvey smirked. “Joker.”

“You've gotta be kidding me?” The fear he saw in his boss' eyes mirrored the kid's when he'd talked about him the night before. That freak could make the bravest man stumble and it was terrifying to see both his boss and the deadliest vigilante he knew so affected by him. “No telling what the man will do. If he'll tell Black Mask or not, but he'll definitely try again.”

“Which is why the gay thing has to continue, Commissioner.”

“What? Why?” Jim tilted his head curiously.

“Because Bennet's got nowhere to go, so I'm offering him my spare bedroom.” Harvey explained. “This way, maybe they'll be less likely to come after him so openly. I mean, rooming with a detective? This way, we can keep an eye on him.”

Jim scratched his chin and Harvey knew he was seriously considering it. He shook his head and then sighed. “Never thought I'd see the day when you took such initiative. Can I ask what it is that has you so wrapped up in this kid? Because I know you're not attracted to him.”

Harvey scratched the back of his neck as he tried to sort it out himself. “He's a good guy. He's got a temper and he's an asshole, but he's a good guy. The kind of guy who spends millions of dollars trying to fix a city and he's...alone.” That was probably the biggest thing that drew him in. “He's fighting all alone out there and he needs a friend, a brother, an allie.”

The older man took a deep breath and then smiled as he placed a hand on Harvey's shoulder. “Well, I have to say I'm not surprised this day finally came. I mean, I'm surprised it wasn't a women that brought this about, but I always knew you'd find it again.”

“Find what?” He scowled at his boss.

“A reason to be the cop I met when he first joined the force.” Jim smiled softly. “Write out your statements and send them to me. I'll make sure everything settles the way you need it to.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

His boss left him alone in the room and for several moments there was just the soft murmuring of the TV. He ran his hands through his hair, once, maybe twice before he sat down in the recliner beside the hospital bed. It was only then that he noticed those intense teal eyes watching him carefully.

“How you feeling?” Harvey asked.

“Impressed mostly, maybe a little surprised.” He rasped.

“See and I thought you'd be in pain since I told them to scale that shit back.” Harvey tried to laugh.

“Well, that too.” JT rolled his eyes before they settled on the ceiling. “Thank you.”

“Too macho to look me in the eyes and thank me.” He teased. Good Lord, he was teasing The Red Hood! What a surreal moment. “I just want to keep you alive, you know. You owe me someone's head on a platter.”

The kid's smile appeared in a flash. “Oh fuck, I forgot about that. Shoulda known you were just fucking using me for my killing skills.”

“Well it certainly ain't for your social skills.” He chuckled.

The younger fell silent again, and Harvey couldn't help but wonder if JT understood just how serious he'd been about keeping him alive. Even if 'The Red Hood' couldn't help him get revenge on the man who destroyed his life, even if he couldn't get rid of men like Joker or Black Mask. There was something so profoundly sad in the eyes of JT Bennet that he hurt just looking at him.

“I'm with you to the end, JT.” He promised.

“To the end, huh? Might want to word your oath of allegiance a bit more carefully, Detective. Odds are good that I don't come out of the 'end' alive. As made evident by the fact that not only is Joker after me, but according to you, Black Mask is sending assassins after me.” The way he so casually spoke of his own demise, turned Bullock's stomach. It's like the kid had already given up.

“Hey, why'd you let Black Mask do that to you before? Why'd you let him put you in the hospital? Why didn't you fight back?” He had been wondering about that since the moment he realized JT was The Hood.

“He kidnapped me in broad daylight. Had I fought off his men it would have been immediately obvious that I wasn't all that I seemed. Didn't need the police or especially Batman and his stupid side-kicks poking around in my life.”

“So is it all a front?” Harvey asked. “The construction thing?”

“No. The company is real and I am doing everything I can to rebuild the burrows and make it a safer place.” JT nodded, his eyes full of promise and determination. “It's why I have to end Black Mask now. It's why I can't focus on the other monsters of Gotham just yet, but I will.”

Harvey shook his head in disbelief. “You talk like you're going out tonight! Jesus, JT you nearly died last night!”

“Ain't no rest of the wicked, Detective.” The younger rolled his eyes. “Besides, there are a couple of people I need to make contact with.”

Harvey stood from the chair and towered over JT, his eyes narrowed as he spoke. “I may not be some fucking ninja thing that kills bad guys for a living, but I know how to fight. Furthermore, I know where you are injured and if you think you're getting past me without a proper medical release, you've got another thing coming, Bennet.”

To his surprise, JT's face flushed bright red as he appeared shocked. He glared up at him and crossed his arms willfully. “Gee, Detective, I didn't know you cared.”

“Yes you did.” Harvey rolled his eyes. “You heard every damned word between me and the commissioner. Now get some more rest so I can watch my fucking show.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really, really, hope you guys liked this chapter. I am so scared of disappointing you all because you've been so receptive and warm to the last few chapters. Let me know if there are any glaring mistakes. There was a lot of Bullock in this chapter, again based physically off Gotham's version. I hope that's okay. Next chapter will deal a lot more with Bruce and how he's processing/handling everything. Okay, that's probably enough rambling. Hope you enjoyed it.


	29. Hospital Rooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The response has been overwhelmingly positive! I was so excited by what so many of you had to say that I just plowed on through the next chapter instead of working on my ColdFlash story. Sorry Coldflash readers, I swear I'm working on the next chapter for real now!
> 
> 9/30/16 *** Minor wording changes, typo fixes and clarifications made***

Chapter 29

 

March 4th

1015 hrs

Bruce's Hospital Room

 

Bruce watched them plot against him; Dick, Tim, Alfred and Leslie. Even in a drug induced state he was aware that they were up to something. Probably planning for the next dose of painkillers. He'd already informed the hospital he didn't want any, but Leslie and Alfred were ensuring he was still 'properly' medicated anyhow. It was something that was irritating him, especially since there wasn't much he could do about it.

No one told him what happened last night, but it must have been bad. Tim refused to speak to anyone but Alfred, Dick looked absolutely exhausted and his old friend looked very stressed. If he could think faster, if he could function properly, he was sure he could get to the bottom of it, but for now he was reliant upon them explaining.

“Shouldn't you be at school, Tim?” Bruce finally asked.

“It's Saturday, Bruce.” Tim shook his head, still staring at his phone as he sat in a small, uncomfortable looking chair.

“Very well, will someone tell me what's going on?” It angered him that he had to request a report out loud.

“JT got stabbed last night.” Tim answered with a casual shrug. “By the Joker.”

Bruce frowned as he looked to Dick. “What happened? Why wasn't I told about this until now?” He tried to put some of that angry bat-tone into his voice, the one that always made the boys cringe. When Dick's shoulders rose slightly, he was pleased he was still able to properly intimidate his oldest charge.

Dick bit at his lip and shook his head. “Robin went to Old Arkham and found The Hood, then Joker showed up. After Robin called for back up, I arrived to find that he'd been shot in the arm.”

“Grazed!” Tim corrected angrily.

“Tim was unconscious due to blood loss and The Hood and Joker escaped. We don't know what became of either man.” Dick continued, ignoring his younger brother's indignant glare.

Truthfully, Bruce was surprised by what he'd heard. Tim wasn't the type to disobey direct orders. It had happened, just like all Robins, but it just wasn't his usual pattern of behavior. He leveled his own steely blue eyes on the teenager and frowned. “I thought we'd agreed that Joker and Bennet were to be left alone after JT left the room? Even before he showed up, you were championing the argument that he was too dangerous to confront.”

“I...I had to make sure he was...” Tim kept looking to Alfred, which was odd, especially since Alfred was avoiding eye contact with him.

“Wait you went after The Hood to check on him?” Leslie's eyes were wide with incredulity. He couldn't blame her for the astonishment, but he wasn't sure he agreed with the disgust forming over her features. “Why would you do that?”

Dick scowled angrily as well. “I know you think you're helping, Timmy, but you're not. You are worried about me having to face him and I appreciate that, but you can't just-

“Alright, everyone stop.” Bruce interrupted and was pleased when they all looked to him. “Dick what are your recommendations for Tim's punishment?”

He tried not to be bothered by the shock in Dick's eyes. They still didn't have the best relationship and it was evident that Dick had been building himself up for a fight. The young officer was so convinced that he wouldn't take his side or agree with his assessment of Tim's unusual behavior that he was ready to get into another feud with him.

“I don't think he should be patrolling right now. His head isn't in the game at all, Bruce. Over the past six months he's been injured or worse abducted multiple times.” Dick stated. “It's my opinion that he needs training or maybe just a break from all this. It's possible that he's working too hard, that he's doing too much right now.”

Listening to Dick, he realized how right he was. Tim's grades were always impressive, his observational skills, more so. The fact that Tim was getting hurt so often was alarming and possibly a sign that he was being overworked and that the lack of sleep, the constant studying, the training and the patrolling were finally catching up to him.

As much as Tim would hate it, Dick was right. It was time for Tim to take a step back and just relax. And if he had to be sidelined, he didn't feel near as bad benching Tim along side him. Still, what was he going to do about Dick, because Bennet and Tim were right. Dick didn't have the heart to face The Red Hood right now. He needed time to let it settle within, he needed to focus on anything but JT Bennet and who he turned out to be.

“Tim, I'm sorry, but Dick is right.” Immediately the teen stood from his chair, his eyes widened in disbelief. He held his hand up to make sure he didn't start arguing. “You may not like it, you may not have meant for all of this to happen, but it has happened. The injuries have been fairly minor, but had we been fighting anyone but Bennet, you could have been hurt more seriously or worse.”

“But Bruce, it's not like that! I'm fine out there!” Tim shook his head as he approached him. “Please, please don't take me off the streets. Dick can't do it alone. He'll be hurt!”

“Master Bruce is right,” Alfred announced. “One too many close calls I'm afraid. It's best that stay home for a few nights.”

Once more Tim looked horrified, this time he even looked betrayed as he stared at Alfred. The angry teenager didn't argue further, though. He simply sat back down and stared down at his phone, confusion and shock overwhelming him for the moment.

Bruce felt a pressure building in his head and he decided that visiting hours needed to be over. Even if that meant being drugged again. “I'm sorry but I think I need some rest.” He still couldn't help the bright warm flush that took to his face when he said something like that. He hated being in this position, especially when his boys were in danger.

Hindsight was certainly 20/20, but he truly regretted not taking care of the tumor earlier. If he'd done something about it before Dick showed up with footage of The Red Hood, he'd be out there dragging the little lunatic to prison or the psych ward. He'd be able to help Dick arrest the Joker and Tim wouldn't be sitting in that chair staring dejectedly at the floor.

“I don't need back up, Bruce.” Dick stated seemingly out of nowhere.

“What makes you-

“I know you, Bruce. You want us to leave so that you can make some calls, but I'm telling you not to. I'm not stupid enough to go hunt down either of them on my own. JT is probably hiding somewhere licking his wounds and while I am sure he has the more serious injury, I don't doubt for one second that JT managed to put half as much hurt on Joker. Neither are likely to be out and about for at least a few days.”

Bruce sighed as he shook his head. “Actually, I really do need to rest. My head is killing me.” He admitted sourly. “But you are right, there is no need to call for back up with you here, Dick. So long as Joker and Red Hood are off the streets, I'm sure you are more than capable of handling the rest.”

Once more, Bruce tried not to feel insulted or hurt by the look on Dick's face. He stared at him as if he were a stranger. He looked at him as if he were some one completely incapable of feeling pride or assurance in his own protege's abilities. Dick kept looking at him like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Did Dick truly believe that he thought so little of him?

Even Tim was staring at him with that same look of surprise. Thankfully, Alfred didn't seem at all affected. If anything he looked a little bored, as if he there were no other natural decision to come to. That was the only thing that saved Bruce's pride; the fact that at least Alfred still knew him well enough to know that he respected his oldest ward in ways he'd probably never admitted to aloud.

“Come along then; Master Bruce has made it clear he needs some rest and Dr. Thompkins and I couldn't agree more.” Alfred ordered as he started to lead the three out of his room, winking to Bruce as he shut the door.

Once he was alone, Bruce closed his eyes. He didn't have long until the medicine that Thompkins had pumped into his IV prevented him from thinking clearly. There was no doubt in his mind that he couldn't operate at his normal efficiency, but if he focused it was possible he could at least get a few things cleared up.

He thought back to the day before. Tried to pinpoint what exactly had stood out most to him. First was definitely Tim's behavior. He'd asked if they should really go after Bennet or not. Tim had changed his mind so quickly about hunting down and stopping The Hood and the way he laid it all out had seemed quite logical, but now that he thought about it, he realized he was being guided by more than logic. Tim spoke out because of fear, because of concern for JT. Just as Dick had complained about moments ago.

Why?

After that, Tim had brought up Stephanie Brown, that poor girl who'd been murdered by her own father and his gang. It had disturbed him when he'd heard about it, and apparently it had done the same with The Hood. The maniac had gone on one of the worst killing sprees Gotham had ever seen that wasn't committed by Joker. Tim had been so sure that Bennet was enraged by the act, almost as if he knew something more about Bennet than the rest of them had.

Why?

Then there was JT storming into the room. He had to admit that JT had definitely mastered the element of surprise with that move. There had been nothing, nothing at all that they could have done. They had no choice but to sit and listen to what he had to say and in the end, no choice but to comply. But how had he known to show up? There weren't bugs, Alfred and Barbara made sure of that. Once more the thought of Alfred texting and the subtle change in Tim's expression when he received a message. What had he told Tim?

The next thing that stood out was the altercation between JT and Tim. What had he said? 'You sound just like him', but who did he sound like? He ran through the memory again and again, frowning as he started to hear the odd hysteria that had begun to grow in his words.

_“I'll shout it from the rooftops, I'll whisper it in the ears of the underworld, I'll even sing like a...” He paused as he looked at Dick and then Tim, his grin lopsided and cruel. “Like a Robin.”_

He'd been angry when Tim accused him of sounding like someone, but who? Damn his fuzzy head and damn the drugs pumping through his system! He could feel it, he was so close, so damned close he just had to focus, had to keep going, what else was odd? He could come back to that thought, he could force it out later.

Bruce had panicked, he'd tried to get out of bed and there had been a flash of concern, there had been a small flicker of fear in those teal blue eyes. Why the concern for him at all? Why did he want him to get healed? Why did he save his life when he passed out at the crime scene? Why did he care at all? Why had his face contorted with agony when Bruce asked why he made them his enemies?

He gritted his teeth as his head ached against his efforts to fight off the drugs. He ignored the rolling of his stomach because he was close to something, so close. There was something else, just before Bennet left, something that had made him shiver, something familiar. It wasn't the words, it was the tone, it was the smirk and that same damned hysteria...

_“It's not just a fucking gun I use, you know? You hate the bullets so much, I can switch to the knives.”_

“The Joker!” Bruce cringed in pain as he swore he could hear the laughter of the crazed clown right beside him. All around he could hear it. That insane, low chuckle turning to a high pitched scream of delight accompanied by those unfocused or perhaps too focused green eyes.

Why? Why was he so similar, why was he linked to this man and what did Timothy know about him that he didn't? He clenched his teeth hard to fight the roll of nausea as he gripped the side of his bed. He needed to calm down before he threw up. He breathed deeper and slower as he tried to answer his own questions but the drugs were settling and the exhaustion was pulling him under. Even as he was forced into sleep he could still hear the faint echo of the Joker's laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

March 4th

1542 hrs

GCPD Offices

 

Something funny was going on, Dick could tell, but he couldn't pinpoint what the cause was. People were staring, like usual, but the looks were different. It wasn't just the typical day-dreamers or the lust filled glances from his co-workers that plagued him as he made his way to the lockers to change into his uniform. Some were concerned, others were confused and a few were even disgusted, but he wasn't sure that the disgust was focused on him.

“Dick!” He looked over to see Harvey Bullock waving him over to his desk. This appeared to bother several of their co-workers who were now glaring pointedly at the older detective.

He walked over to Bullock's desk where the detective was seated. He looked nervous and uncomfortable. Had something happened? Had his plan to uncover Black Mask's moles been found out? That would certainly explain some of the hostility being directed towards him.

“It's about JT.” Harvey started.

Oh God, he hadn't told anyone that they were broken up! Dick sighed and cut him off before he could say anything, “Detective, JT and I broke up so I just want to be up front with you. I mean I know that could possibly make me a suspect, but trust me I don't want-

“Shut up, Grayson, that's not what I'm trying to talk to you about.” Harvey snapped and then rubbed his chin nervously.

“What's going on, Detective?” He frowned, noticing a couple of female detectives glaring hatefully at Bullock, one shaking her head with a curled lip. “What did you do to upset the whole damned department? Did they find out about your investigation?”

“No, Dick, they didn't.” Harvey growled and placed his hands on his desk. “JT and I are together.”

Dick blinked, not sure he'd heard that correctly. He and JT are together? He tiled his head and thought about it before laughing aloud. “Right, okay, Detective, what did you really want to say to me?”

Harvey's face turned bright red as he looked around them and then glared at Dick. “That is what I wanted to tell you, Officer. JT and I are in a relationship now and since you just confirmed that you two broke up, then it shouldn't cause any conflict.''

Yeah right, Dick thought to himself as he laughed again. “Come on, Bullock, that's not even possible.” He tried not to notice that there were four or five officers standing awfully close to them as they tried to listen in on their conversation.

“Not possible?” Harvey frowned as he stood from his chair. “Why is that, Grayson? You trying to say something about me?”

“What?” Dick frowned as realized that Harvey still wasn't laughing. No. It couldn't be? The Red Hood was _not_ dating Detective Harvey Bullock, that just wasn't possible. “No, not at all, it's just that we literally broke up like two days ago.”

Harvey frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the floor. “Yeah I know, I uh, just wanted to make sure there'd be no issues between us?”

Jesus, this wasn't possible. “Aren't you straight?” Dick demanded, not sure why he was suddenly getting so mad. He should be concerned for Harvey, he should be worried about him! He was dating a serial killer!

“Apparently not.” He blushed again as he awkwardly looked at his desk while several officers around them snickered.

“Wait, wait, this just doesn't make sense. You aren't dating him, you aren't dating JT Bennet! I just dumped him!” Dick insisted and tried to focus on anything but the sudden surge of angry jealousy that was coiling in his stomach.

“What and you think no one can get over you?” Harvey sneered. “Get over yourself, Grayson.”

“You want me to get over myself?” Dick nearly shouted. “You're telling me that less than forty-eight hours after dumping JT, that he has not only moved on but that he's also slumming it with, with _you_?”

Harvey's blue eyes flashed as he stepped forward, towering over Dick. He knew he'd embarrassed the man, knew he'd possibly even hurt his feelings, but damn it what about his feelings? He was pissed, he was hurt and he was not about to let JT humiliate him like this! It was one thing to go on with his pretend life, but to go on with another cop? A cop who worked the same precinct, a cop who was his superior? A cop who was generally seen as a disgusting slob? How could he rub it in his face like this and with Harvey of all people?

“Slumming it? You think he's slumming it?” Harvey shouted in his face. “Maybe pretty boy's ain't his style. Maybe you weren't man enough for him! Or maybe he realized he didn't need to fuck you anymore to get to Bruce Wayne's pocket.”

The surrounding crowd of grown law enforcement 'oooed' them, they actually 'oooed' them! He felt heat building in his cheeks as several more cops of all ranks started to surround them. He narrowed his eyes and smirked at Bullock. Two could play at this game. “Yeah well, maybe it's for the best he chose you, Bullock,” Dick started. “I clearly can't help him with his Daddy kink like you can.”

He gasped for breath as as he felt Bullock's left shoulder ram into his gut, effectively knocking the wind out of him and catching him by surprise. His body hit the back of another desk as the large man speared him. They rolled to the floor as there were shouts of jeering, cheering and mediation. He clocked Harvey in the jaw, but received a hit to the eye before several other officers were able to separate them.

An hour later both he and Harvey were in separate offices being suspended without pay for the next week. He knew it had to be bullshit, those two being together, and yet he still acted like a child. Bruce would be so disappointed. And what the Hell for? He and JT were through. There was no reason to get jealous of who ever he was fake-dating or real-dating.

He left the small office and couldn't help but take some pleasure in the fact that Commissioner Gordon could be heard laying into the slovenly detective. He dropped off his badge and gun and headed toward the exit, still wondering what all had happened. Especially since the entire precinct seemed to know more than they usually did.

As he reached the lobby two officers approached him. Officer Yates and Officer Hill. Officer Hill was on his short list of suspected Black Mask moles, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to tell Harvey that anymore. Then again, the day Tim had been kidnapped he caught Harvey glaring at the petite woman before dispatch told everyone what was going on. Her behavior had been odd to say the least, but since he took off to go rescue his brother, he never had a chance to confirm his suspicions.

“What can I do for you guys?” Dick frowned as they stopped in front of him.

“We thought you ought to know what happened last night.” Hill started as she bit at her bottom lip. Women did that a lot around Dick, he knew why, but chose to ignore it and avoided looking at their mouths once they did it. “You have a right to know.”

“Okay, what happened?” He asked curiously.

“An assassin broke into Bullocks apartment. Before he could get to his gun, JT fought off who ever it was and was stabbed.” She explained. “The assassin got away when Bullock found his gun, but the damage was done.”

“He'll live though.” Yates added thoughtfully. “He's at Gotham General, now.”

“And you guys got this from the rumor mill?”

“No, Grayson, we were the responding officers.” Hill corrected. So JT had actually been in Bullock's apartment? Did that mean Harvey knew that JT was The Red Hood? “He was in his underwear.”

Dick clenched his teeth and he wished he could say it was just an act for the officers, but unfortunately it was a genuine reaction. He couldn't believe how pissed off he was at the prospect that JT had moved on with a detective old enough to be the bastard's father! He took a few deep breaths and remembered that he shouldn't know that JT was stabbed. He needed to react properly to that bit of info.

“So wait, you said JT was stabbed?” He frowned. “Was it, was it serious?”

Yates nodded. “If you want to see him, now would be the best time. Especially if you want to talk to him while Harvey's busy with the commissioner.”

Dick sighed and then nodded. “I'll do that. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Officer Hill smiled and something about that grin made him more than a little nervous.

He started for the hospital as he rubbed at his sore cheek bone. What might Black Mask do if he believed that both a Wayne child and Bennet were in the same hospital room together? He'd already tried to kidnap Timothy and if Bullock was right a couple days ago, then JT had an assassin coming for him, a real one. He ran for his bike as fast as he could. He needed to get to that hospital before it was too late.

 

* * *

 

 

Gotham General

1723 hrs

 

Jason looked up in surprise as Dick flew into the crowded room. He almost laughed at the look of surprise on the blue-bird's face. Surrounding Jason was his receptionist, two bodyguards and two attorneys as well as a representative of Wayne Industries. “Can I help you, Dick?” He grinned.

“What's all this?”

Looking around at the men surrounding him, he shrugged. “A business meeting, I should think. Life still goes on even after an attack, Mr. Grayson.”

Oh that pissed him off. God, but he wanted to laugh at the scowl on Dick's face. “Mr. Grayson? That's all I am now?”

“You ended it with me, Dick.” He emphasized his name heavily. “Now, unless this is important, I really do have a lot of work to do. The Burrows can't reform themselves, you know?”

“Actually this is very important.” Dick insisted. “I'd like to speak to you in private.”

Demanding little shit. Jason sighed but nodded to his guards and then looked to the man from Bruce's company. “I think he means to beg so if you don't mind I need a little break anyhow.”

“Actually, we can pick this up tomorrow morning, say nine? I have another meeting to get to so I think this is an excellent stopping point.” The man smiled politely.

They all left without complaint, the two guards taking their places outside the door to his room. Dick was the last person he expected to see and truthfully he didn't like it. He looked him over and frowned at how good he looked, how well his jeans hugged his thighs and how nicely his long sleeved black shirt clung to his torso. Fuck, he was horny.

“You have bodyguards?”

“Gotta keep up the act, Dick.” Jason sneered. “What do you want?”

There was a moment of silence as Dick seemed to be at war with himself. The handsome, older man kept clenching and unclenching his fists. “Are you alright?”

With a roll of his eyes Jason held out his arms. “For real? I'm in a fucking hospital, genius! Do I look alright?”

“Don't be an asshole, not now, JT.” The officer snapped as he stepped forward. “You nearly got Tim killed last night, you nearly got yourself killed from the looks of it. Don't you give me attitude-

“Hey!” Jason cut him off . “I am not your fucking inferior here, I'm your enemy. You don't get to talk to me like I'm some team member that disappointed you; got me?”

“An enemy?” Dick growled and there was something awfully close to pain in his eyes and he just didn't want to think about that. Couldn't think about it.

“That was your choice, Dick, not mine.” Jason reminded angrily.

“Fuck you, JT, you're so full of shit.”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, because he was not at all prepared emotionally for this kind of argument. He expected a fight about what happened last night, but not one about their ended relationship. Dick must be all kinds of fucked up in the head if he was more focused on them than he was with Joker being on the loose.

“Well, I thought I'd let you know that a _real_ assassin is most likely coming for you. You know, that way you won't be caught off guard in your underwear, with your new boyfriend!” Dick shouted by the end of his sentence.

Jason's eyes widened in disbelief. Dick was jealous? Dick was angry about _that_? Holy shit! Wait, how did he find out about that? This was not good. He frowned as he looked down at the papers still in his lap from the meeting. Fuck me, this is bad, he thought to himself as he shook his head. “I fucking knew you weren't in the right frame of mind to face me.” He blew out a deep breath and looked up at his ex. “You shouldn't be here, Dick.”

“Why? I have nowhere else to be seeing as I was suspended this afternoon!” What? Jason tilted his head because that certainly didn't sound like Golden Boy. “Care to guess why?”

“You get caught in the wrong uniform?” He said just for spite.

“Nope. Decked a superior officer, a detective to be specific.” Uh-oh. Shit just got worse. He cringed as Dick laughed with frustration. Oh please God, don't let it be- “Detective Bullock to be even more specific!” And there it is.

“So does he know about you? Huh? You tell him all about the rest of us?” Jason tried to interrupt but Dick just continued. “He must mean something to you, JT. You went to him while you were bleeding out! You fucking told him your secret! How long has that shit been going on?”

If he could get to his feet, he'd knock the moron on his ass before he made a bigger fool of himself. “Dick just stop! This room isn't fucking sound-proof!”

“God I shouldn't even care about that part and yet...”

“Like I said yesterday, you're in no condition to face me, Blue-bird.” Jason pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Alfred requesting he call Dick back to him.

“And you are?” Dick grinned but it was hollow and that made something in Jason feel just as empty. Dick walked to him and took Jason's hand, squeezing it tight as he looked deep into his eyes. “Got any contingencies for this situation? Any emails ready to be deployed if I try to arrest you here and now?”

With a deep breath, Jason unconsciously licked his bottom lip. “Always.” He lied and for a split second he thought Dick would call his bluff. Instead the older leaned down close; so close he could almost press their lips together.

“I don't believe you, Hood.” Dick whispered, sending chills down Jason's spine.

“He doesn't know.” Jason spoke up, needing to get the lie out. He needed to protect Harvey, not give into his libido or that feeling he refused to acknowledge. “I told him and Gordon that I'd been at the job-site when the Joker tried to kill me. I ran to him and Harvey undressed me. I was already out of my gear but I was losing blood fast and nearly unconscious.”

“So you two aren't really a couple, you're just faking it?” Dick asked skeptically.

He bent closer and Jason had to turn his head to keep Dick from kissing him, because he simply couldn't allow it. Not with where either of them were mentally. Not at this stage of the game. Besides, he needed to be able to sell his next lie. The door opened and he heard a snort of disbelief; excellent timing.

“What the Hell is this?” Harvey demanded and Dick immediately straightened up, his face still blushing from the rejected kiss.

“Nothing, I was just making sure JT was okay, Detective.” Dick sneered uncharacteristically.

“That's nice, but it's unnecessary.” Harvey insisted as he came around to the opposite side of the bed and took Jason's free hand. There was a strange sort of anger radiating off of both men and Jason couldn't help but feel flattered by the jealousy and possessiveness he was bringing out in both of them. He should be ashamed, but he couldn't help it.

When Bullock bent down and kissed his lips softly, Jason was surprised, but he went with it because it was exactly what he had figured needed to be done to convince Dick. “You okay, Babe?” Harvey asked casually, as if he'd been kissing him or men in general for years.

“Little bit of pain, but yeah. I'm good.” Jason smiled and hoped to Hell he wasn't blushing as much as he felt he was. He glanced at Dick and...Fuck! How was this possible? Both of his boyhood crushes were literally standing over him and fighting over him. Who cared if it was fake on one side of it? Who else got to experience anything remotely as interesting and maybe even a little hot, as this?Yeah Bullock wasn't Dick by any stretch, but still! He needed to lay off the porno because this wasn't good, this wasn't sexy or thrilling. It was bad. Very bad. Bad Jason!

“Wow. Guess I was wrong about you being straight.” Dick shook his head as he stepped back. “Well, I'll leave you two be.” Was that hurt or anger in his voice? Most likely both. Dick turned again and faced them. “Just...be careful, Bullock. Hill made a comment about knowing JT is here and she was on the list I was working on for you.”

Jason wanted so badly to smack his forehead, because really? He'd just broken Dick down even more and all the moron had really intended to do was help him. Fucking Golden Boy just couldn't ever be a bad guy, could he? No. He had to be a fucking hero, a fucking goody-good! Had to make him feel guilty about kissing another man even though they were broken the fuck up and it wasn't even real!

“Thanks.” Bullock nodded, seeming completely indifferent toward Dick. But then his 'boyfriend's' face contorted with guilt. “Grayson, 'bout what I said earlier...It was out of line.”

“Same here. That's really not like me.” Dick sighed, looking more and more hurt by the moment. Maybe it was an act for Harvey? “I just, I didn't expect it.”

“What the Hell are you two talking about?” Jason asked.

“He can tell you about it.” Dick shrugged as he pulled out a vibrating cell phone. “I have to get going. Gotta tell my family about the suspension.”

The moment Dick had left, Harvey released his hand. “Hope that wasn't out of line but I figured we gotta sell this shit or you're gonna be in bigger trouble than either of us need.” The Detective sighed as he fell back into the recliner.

“Yeah, no that was good. Really good.” He shook his head and tried not to sound like a complete fucking idiot. “Actually, I'm glad you did it because I'd been thinking the same thing. Thanks for uh, taking one for the team?”

“Look at you blush.” Harvey chuckled softly. “You weren't kidding about that crush, were you?”

“What?” Jason somehow managed to pale and heat up all at the same time. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night, or this morning I guess, you said you'd had a crush on me when you were a teenager.” Harvey laughed, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable he was making him. Shithead. “So you are a Gotham native.”

“Never said I wasn't.” Jason shrugged as he tidied up the papers on his lap and set them on the table to the side of him.

Harvey looked like he wanted to say something but just as he opened is mouth a nurse came in with a tray of food. She placed it gently over his lap and then quickly left the room, eyeing his fake boyfriend with a bit of motherly concern and possibly some unconscious disdain. He wanted to giggle, but this man had seen enough of him at his worst, so he just pulled the stupid plastic lid off the plate.

“That looks appetizing.” Harvey sneered at the plate of cold, most likely dry chicken slices, the rather solid looking mashed potatoes with congealed brow gravy and the dehydrated pile of corn.

“Yeah fuck you.” Jason pouted, abandoning his plan to seem like a well respected and equally dangerous vigilante.

The man laughed again as he stood from the recliner. “Well I'm gonna run down to the diner and get some real food.”

Jason's eyes widened as he grabbed Bullock's forearm. “Bring me back some food, Harvey, please?” Yeah, fuck his dignity; he couldn't handle hospital food. It would literally suck the will to live right out of him.

Harvey laughed a little harder but gave a small smile. “Whaddya want, Kid?”

“Chili dogs?”

“Chili dogs? Are you fucking kidding me?” He looked up at the ceiling and then back to him. “Can't you pick something that isn't likely to leak out the damned bag and leave a trail straight to you?”

Jason grinned and then scoffed. “If a detective of your rank and skill can't figure out how to sneak chili dogs into a hospital than you don't deserve that badge.”

“Ha-ha.” He rolled his eyes. “Actually, I'm suspended.”

“Yeah, Dick told me a little about that. What happened?”

“I tackled him and then punched him.”

“Why?” Jason frowned.

“I'll tell you about it when I get back with your damned chili dogs.” Harvey promised and Jason couldn't help but smile victoriously. As the man headed for the door he pulled out a phone and made a call. “Yeah I'm leaving his room. Make sure he's protected, Commissioner.”

Jason leaned back against his bed and couldn't help but feel safe for the first time since...He closed his eyes and smiled at the sad thought. Since he was living in the manor with Bruce and Alfred. Even with the League of Assassin's he'd never felt looked after or protected, nor was he supposed to, but this was different. It was nice and even if it was only going to last a few days, he'd take it.

Who would have thought? Detective Harvey Bullock, crooked cop turned decent detective and vigilante hater was actually doing what he could to protect him! Old crush aside, Jason was thrilled to be working with the cop. He was thrilled to finally have an ally who wasn't going to betray him in order to stay loyal to the Bats. Bullock had said he was with him to the end and that meant more to him than he ever would have thought it could.

 

* * *

 

March 5th

0215hrs

Somewhere In Gotham

 

He didn't have many options available to him. They were all scared shitless of The Red Hood, especially after Deadshot's death. Cobblepot had put out a bounty on his head for nearly five millions dollars and not one man had bit, or at least as far as they knew. It was entirely possible that some had, they just hadn't survived.

Black Mask knew he needed to do something, though. Bennet or Wayne or both had to be stopped before the reformation project really picked up steam or he'd loose his foothold in the Burrows. He'd worked his ass for that area of Gotham and he'd be damned if a snot-nosed brat and some billionaire playboy destroyed everything he'd worked so hard for! Most of his gun shipments went through the Burrows, not to mention all of his drugs.

Killing them should have been a simple fix, even with the Batman and his side-kicks running around the city. But this new guy! He couldn't get shit done with The Hood taking out his moles and killing off a large group of that new gang he'd just hired, what did they call themselves? Killerz? Clearly they'd overestimated themselves. Should have gone with Victimz.

He stared down at the joker card laying on his desk and a job quote beside it. He had a hard choice to make. He could make good on his threat and hire a very expensive assassin or he could risk it all and let Joker take care of it for him. The problem with hiring Deathstroke was that he could be bought off if the sum was large enough. The problem with hiring Joker was that the freak show might just slit his throat instead.

It should seem like an obvious choice, but thanks to the lack of drugs and guns being sold in the burrows at the moment, his money wasn't as readily available as it had been last year. If something went wrong and Deathstroke couldn't get the job done or if he was bought off, then he was out the five million and still stuck with The Hood.

“Sir, you asked me to inform you when the expiration of the quote was an hour away.”

He looked to his pretty assistant and then glared back down at the two items on his desk. “Fuck Deathstroke.” He crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash. He could get Bennet and the Waynes once the bigger problem was permanently dealt with. “Call the clown, let him know the job's his but I expect results by the end of the month. If Hood ain't dead, I'll hire The Terminator to take him and that freaky clown out.”

“Right away, Sir.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you liked it! There really is a lot more to come and thank you again for your wonderful comments and compliments! You guys are the best and keep me motivated and excited for this story. Sorry for typos. If there are any glaring ones please let me know and I'll fix it right away.
> 
> 9/30/16 ***After reading a couple of comments and then re-reading the chapter myself I realized I made a couple of errors with word choices when it came to describing Dick's anger. While he was definitely hurt in this chapter he's also incredibly shocked, angry and jealous. I really meant for him to sound more angry and jealous than sad. I apologize for that and hope that I have fixed that. I also made it much more clear who Black Mask wants dead.   
> Thank you to Sterek2234 and Starshinesoldier for pointing out those issues!***


	30. The Hard Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Technically I went two days beyond my deadline and I apologize profusely. This chapter took a long time to write, longer than I expected. Sorry for any typos and I really hope you all enjoy this chapter. My roommate and I got into a few debates over it, so hopefully the right decisions were made. Thanks for your patience and support and as always thank for reading!

Chapter 30

 

March 6th

2126 hrs

Wayne Manor

 

Alfred frowned at him the moment he stepped into the kitchen and found him sucking down coffee and hot chocolate. He had a bowl of Lucky Charms with most of the actual cereal picked out as he sat at the island on a bar-stool. His marshmallow to cereal ratio was ridiculously out of balance, but he didn't care. Just like he didn't care that Alfred was staring at him suspiciously.

“Master Dick, shouldn't you be patrolling?” The old man asked but then tilted his head. “Or rather work? I thought your night shift rotation had begun tonight?”

Dick's blue eyes glanced up at him before dropping back down to his bowl as his shoulders shrugged. He didn't answer, how could he? And yet he was in the Manor instead of his apartment so clearly he was just begging to be forced into talking about it. The fact he'd managed to keep his suspension and JT's location a secret for the past two days was quite miraculous.

He picked out a bite of nothing but the dehydrated marshmallows and ignored the grimace of disgust on the butler's face. Dick had given JT crap about being a junk-food junkie, but in reality he was just as bad, probably worse. Especially when he was down in the dumps about his job, love-life, partnership with Batman and now with Robin and of course his friend's injury.

Roy stumbled into the kitchen, using crutches and grimacing the whole way, which Dick was thankful for because he was sure that Alfred was about to interrogate him. He quickly got to his feet, momentarily abandoning his “dinner” so that he could help Roy.

“I got this, Dick.” Roy grumbled and tried to wave him off without letting go of either crutch.

“Didn't Dr. Thompkins tell you to stay in the wheelchair unless you were doing physical therapy, Master Harper?” Alfred asked in that warning tone he was so famous for.

“Uh,” Roy stalled as his face flushed pink. “Yeah but uh, I was-

“Willfully disobeying the doctor's orders.” Alfred supplied. “Allow Dick to help you get seated while I go and retrieve your wheelchair.”

“Come on Al, I just want to take my rehabilitation to the next level, I don't need that wheelchair.” Roy pouted.

Dick wasn't at all surprised when Alfred outright ignored him and left the kitchen. He took Roy's arm that was on the wounded side of his body and wrapped it around his neck so that he could keep all of his weight off the leg. They moved carefully to the island before Dick helped him settle onto a stool that had a small cushioned back.

“So, Dick, why are you here and not in one of your uniforms?” Roy asked, getting straight to business as he often did when he knew his best friend was up to something. He couldn't help but admire how direct Roy was with his friends. He had his flaws for sure, but they were nothing compared to his strengths.

He took a couple of quick bites of his cereal as he stalled for time. No one had told Roy that JT Bennet was The Red Hood as far as he knew. Barbara had wanted to tell him immediately but since she hadn't the time to sit down and discuss it with him, nor had Roy gone on some angry tirade, he was certain she'd been prevented from doing so. Barbara had been working her ass off trying to track down The Hood and still maintaining her Oracle position, so it made sense.

Speaking of which, Barbara really should have been told about JT's presence in the hospital so that she could at least keep an eye on him. For some reason though, he hadn't. He hadn't told anybody anything and yet he knew that Barbara had to have known. For the last two nights they'd worked together she hadn't brought it up, something rather unusual for her. Normally she was full disclosure with the team but she had been just as silent as he had been.

“Hello? Earth to Dick?” Roy waved his hand in front of Dick's eyes and he shook it off.

“Sorry, Roy. A lot has happened and I don't even know where to begin.”

“Usually the beginning is the best place.” His friend teased as he stole a swallow of Dick's coffee concoction. “Damn, man. That sweet-tooth is going lead you right to Diabetes if you aren't careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dick tried to smile but he was worried. Roy would be angry, and rightfully so, when he found out that JT had been the one to cripple him. Would he be angry at him, though? Roy's first instinct had been to hate JT and it had been spot on. What was Wally going to say? He knew Barbara was pissed off already and Tim and Alfred were acting strange. His entire support system was going to crumble underneath him, all because of his spectacularly bad taste in men.

“Dick, you're really starting to worry me.” His friend frowned.

“JT Bennet is The Red Hood.” Dick spit out as fast as he could, bile rising in his throat as he prepared himself for Roy's inevitable rage. He closed his eyes and waited for the shouting and cursing, the threats and the promises of revenge, but as he sat there, he realized Roy was holding completely still.

He dared a peak at his friend who was staring at him with in impassive expression. Slowly, Roy's arms crossed but he still didn't speak. Dick frowned and waved his hand, as if to tell him to get on with it but instead Roy shrugged. “Yeah, I know. And?”  
“What do you mean you know?” Dick asked.

“Come on, Dick, Barbara has been sleeping over nearly every night. You think she didn't find a moment to talk to me about it?” Roy shook his head. “Unlike you and Bruce, she is open and honest with the people she says she trusts and I happen to be one of those people.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dick grumbled.

“I'm not trying to make you feel worse,” Roy snickered. “That came out more bitter than I meant it.” He placed a heavy hand on Dick's shoulder. “You and Bruce just, you go inward when things get shifty. You don't reach out to your teammates or partners. Instead, you try to protect us, often forgetting that we're in more danger in the dark.”

Dick knew he was right. It was something that he and Tim had definitely learned from Bruce. It was why Alfred was always so severe on them when secrets came out that had or could have endangered each other. So many times they'd tried to reason that they intended good, that it was to keep the ones they loved safe, but Alfred had a penchant for reminding them of one of his favorite sayings.

The road to Hell is often paved with good intentions.

“Look, most of us 'superheroes' have no room to talk when it comes to making bad choices for what we consider to be good reasons. Me especially.” Roy shrugged. “And I get it. I probably wouldn't have told you right away either. I know though, so just...talk to me. Let me help you get through this.”

“Let you help me? You're the one who was hurt by JT, Roy! I'm the one who should be helping you and I'm the one who should be begging your forgiveness.”

“For what?” The red-head shrugged.

“What do you mean for what? Your leg of course! For dating the man who did that to you!”

Roy smirked. “Dude, you didn't shoot a grappling gun into my leg.” He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “And whether we like it or not, you didn't walk into that slaughterhouse and pick a fight with him. I did.”

“So you aren't mad?” Dick doubted.

“Oh I'm mad.” Roy glared but once more his expression softened. “Just not at you. You didn't do this to me, Dick. That asshole did! What I'd like to know is why?”  
“Honestly, that's something I'd been trying to figure out myself and during our break up...He uh. He told me why.” Roy's eyes widened as he leaned forward, obviously wanting to hear the reason. “I'll tell you, just...don't shoot the messenger.”

“I'm not armed.” Roy shrugged with a teasing smile.

“When I asked him why he did what he did to you, he said it's because you didn't make a stand.” Dick frowned, worried about where this conversation might take their friendship.

“Standing up to him doesn't count?” Roy sneered.

“He said, that had you not let him kill Ryan first, had you stepped in before he killed him, he wouldn't have used the grappling gun. He said he could have respected your decision no differently than he does us.” Dick explained. “He basically told me that in his eyes, you allowing him to kill Ryan, meant you agreed with his methods, but that when you attacked him, when you shot him afterward it meant it was more important to keep us happy.”

“Maybe I just changed my mind.” Roy growled through gritted teeth. “Maybe for a brief moment I doubted myself and maybe I thought his methods were right before I came back to my senses!”

“I know.” Dick frowned. “But that's not how he interpreted your actions.”

“He's a fucking liar.” Roy snapped as he looked away from Dick and stared straight ahead. “What he did was personal, there was something else driving the anger, there had to be.”

Sighing, Dick let the subject settle. Arguing with Roy further would make it appear as if he was siding with The Red Hood, rather than explaining what he meant. He didn't want to risk alienating his friend or wounding him further, because despite his feelings about killing crooks or the way he felt about JT, Dick really did understand Roy's thinking.

It was quite possible that Roy had simply changed his mind, that his conscience had won out when it came time to let The Hood leave. Deep down, Dick had thought about what JT's letter offered those months ago. Sure it was only a brief moment of self-doubt, but he'd had it all the same. Tim had even questioned whether or not Red Hood's methods were safer and more effective for the populace. It wasn't right that JT had hurt Roy because he changed his mind.

“Dick, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?” Tim asked as he entered the kitchen; a small amount of attitude coming through his tone.

Alfred came in right behind him with Roy's wheelchair. At once, Dick knew the old man had been eavesdropping. It shouldn't have taken that long to find and push the chair back to the kitchen considering that the guest room Roy was staying in was on the main floor.

“Yeah, you still haven't answered that question.” Roy pointed out, most likely grateful to change the subject.

Wishing he could go back in time just this once, Dick frowned as he thought about that day and everything he'd yet to tell them all. “I was suspended the other day.” He admitted softly. Might as well tell them all at once.

“For what?” Tim asked as Roy's jaw dropped. Alfred's stern gaze took him in as he stood opposite Dick on the other side of the island next to his brother.

“I,” He bit at his bottom lip as he looked to his rapidly dissolving marshmallow cereal . He couldn't even try to look Alfred in the eyes. The shame was too much. “I got into a fight with a superior officer.”

“Dude, no way.” Roy shook his head. “Who?”

“Why?” Tim asked next, his face contorted with confusion.

“It was Detective Bullock.” He frowned and rubbed his face with both hands as Tim exclaimed and Roy snickered. He still didn't have the courage to face Alfred and see his reaction.

“Why on Earth would you hit Bullock?” Tim demanded.

“Because...” Oh God, could he answer? With the truth? What would they think of him? “Because I found out that he and JT are together, probably have been for a while.”

Tim's face flushed and this time he saw Alfred sigh but the man quickly turned his back on them and shook his head. Roy's upper lip curled in disgust. “Wait, wait. JT Bennet gets dumped by you, but then he goes out with Harvey Bullock? Like the sloppy, red haired, ornery detective that's always giving us vigilantes shit?”

“Are you alright Master Dick?” Alfred asked as he turned to face him, his expression holding only concern.

“Of course I was just...shocked!” Dick frowned. “I mean everyone was staring and whispering.”

“About what?” Tim asked.

“I'm surprised they weren't outright laughing!” Roy shook his head. “Have you seen your brother, Tim?”

“I don't get it.” Tim admitted and looked to Dick, but he was too mortified to say anything because clearly, Roy understood and was just as outraged and surprised as he had been.

“Timmy, your brother is obscenely attractive.” Roy informed him. “Men and women want him. Haven't you ever seen the way people stare at him?” Tim nodded. “So for Dick, who is young and attractive to have broken up with a guy like JT, who is also admittedly pretty hot, to move on so quickly is insulting. Not only could it imply that there was more going on earlier, but knowing that he picked a man twice Dick's age who isn't even considered by most women to be attractive? It's just... the guy is so far out of Dick's and JT's league it's pathetic.”  
“So you hit the detective because you were embarrassed of him? You actually struck a man because your co-workers were gossiping about you?” Alfred asked, his voice hard and cold as ice.

“No.” Dick shook his head adamantly. “I mean it, it didn't start like that. We were surrounded and Bullock was explaining that he and JT were together and hoped it wouldn't cause problems and I was just so shocked that I reacted poorly.”

“Reacted poorly?” To his horror, Barbara's voice joined the room as she rolled herself into the kitchen. He really should have expected her to be coming by for patrols with Tim grounded. “You said JT was slumming it with him and that he had a specific kink he must have been into to be with a guy like him. I watched the footage, Dick.”

Dick blushed in shame again. “Like I said, I had a bad reaction, but he goaded me into it, which you also should have seen.”

“That's true, but he had a reason for it and you know it.” Barbara stated. “You kept telling Bullock it was impossible for JT to be with him, that you had only dumped him days ago. You were angry and jealous, Dick; you really insulted the guy. Harvey isn't my favorite detective either, but he has saved my father's life and has worked really hard for redemption.”

As he tried to avoid eye contact with his ex, his best friend and what was basically his grandfather but he couldn't help but look to Tim. Seeing a small, mischievous smile was the last thing he expected from the sixteen year old. He would have asked what he was smiling about, but the expression melted to one of shock when he'd realized he'd been caught.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Roy demanded.

“As much as we'd all like to, Roy, we can't just turn off our emotions for people.” Barbara said gently. She came around to her boyfriend's free side and took his hand into hers. “JT Bennet is a bad man, but you said yourself that he was making Dick happy, that he was making him smile. You can't just expect that to disappear in an instant.”

Dick felt his stomach turn and he needed this subject to change, unfortunately someone else spoke up before he could. “Master Grayson,” He cringed at the sound of his last name. “While what Ms. Gordon said of emotions is true, your vanity and the actions you took to protect it, are not excused. I am _very_ disappointed in you.”

No one spoke as the butler left the kitchen and all Dick could do was cringe and stare down at his hands and the counter top beneath his bowl. He knew the old man was right. It had been bad enough that JT moved on to Bullock, but that the entire precinct knew and were laughing about it had really provoked him to act like a child. He had felt like he had to lash out, like he had to defend his reputation.

“Does Bullock know that JT is The Red Hood?” Tim asked.

He shook his head. “No. JT said that he told Harvey and the police that he'd been attacked by the Joker on his work site or something. He claimed he was afraid of calling nine-one-one for fear of the job being finished by a crooked cop or EMT, so he ran straight to Harvey's.”

“Are you sure they are a couple?” Tim questioned, definitely in detective mode. “I mean, Bullock could just be covering for him?”

Biting his inner cheek to control the angry jealousy that was still coursing through him he shook his head yet again. “Nope. If it's a cover, it's a convincing one. They kissed, Bullock looked genuinely concerned for him and JT reacted very...naturally to him; as if he'd always been attracted to him.” He felt his cheeks burn as he prepared to hammer the final nail into coffin. “I tried to kiss JT before Harvey came in and he turned his face so I couldn't. According to a few other officers, JT's moving in with him as soon as he's out of the hospital.”

“Wait so you've known where he is since Saturday?” Tim asked.

“Yeah and until Bruce says otherwise, you aren't to go anywhere near him.” Dick answered firmly. Since Barbara knew about him and Bullock, it was highly probable that she had known the entire time where JT was as well. It was comforting to know that she'd simply waited for him to speak up on his own, even if she had thrown him under the bus a few minutes ago.

“So why do you still care about him?” Roy sighed.

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “I'm trying not to Roy, I really am.”

“I'm so sorry, Dick.” Barbara offered gently.

“You are?” Dick half laughed since this was one hell of change in her attitude about his and JT's relationship. Actually, she'd been unbelievably calm this entire conversation considering how badly everything had gone when JT burst into Bruce's hospital room.

“He just triggered my instincts, but that doesn't change the fact that I was cold and maybe a little unforgiving when it came to finding out who he was in regards to you. Obviously if you'd known who he was you never would have pursued him and I'm sorry for reacting the way I did toward you. I could have been more understanding.” Barbara explained, still holding Roy's hand in hers. “I think it was like you said of yourself and Bullock. Just a very poor reaction.”

“It's alright. I'll get over him. He's a monster so it shouldn't be too hard.” Dick shrugged and then gathered his cup and bowl and took them to the sink to rinse them out. He wasn't hungry and most of his cereal had dissolved due to his inattention. He hated soggy cereal and he needed to get out of the kitchen and away from the others.

He was relieved when his friends and brother let him walk away. Since Barbara was most likely there for Roy, that meant she didn't plan to head down to the Batcave. Tim knew the cave was off limits when he was grounded, so he wouldn't dare go near it with Alfred in a bad mood. Of course, Alfred might pop in on him if he went down there, but it was possible he needed some time to let his temper cool before attempting to talk to him.

Either way, he wasn't about to let this rare opportunity pass him by.

 

* * *

 

March 6th

21:45 hrs

JT Bennet's Hospital Room

 

Jason's eyes opened at the irritating sound of his cell phone going off. The ringtone was “Werewolves in London”, a telling tone that informed him of the Butler's attempt to contact him. He grabbed it quickly from his food tray and answered it before Bullock could see that the caller ID read The Butler on it. He didn't really want to explain why his ex boyfriend's butler would be trying to contact him.

“Hello?” He ignored Bullock's scowl as the man muted whatever crap television he'd been watching.

“Master Bennet, I am sure that there is a man close by that will probably be able to hear every word I say if I were to raise my voice. Fortunately for the both of us I am sensible to the situation and am willing to speak to you at a civilized volume.

“Before you respond to what I am saying, I want you to think long and hard before you answer. Not just for your sake, but for the sake of those you promised me you would never harm so long as I kept your secrets.”

Jason frowned and looked to Bullock. “Hey, um, I need the room. Confidential work stuff.” He said calmly.

Harvey's eyes narrowed but he nodded as he got up from the recliner he'd been sitting in. He grabbed JT's pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “Fifteen minutes, but there's gonna be a man at the door so don't get too loud if it's got anything to do with Red Riding Hood.”

Jason blushed at the terrible nickname for his alter ego, but nodded. “Thanks, Babe. Fifteen minutes should be plenty.”

At first he'd planned to tell Alfred the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but considering how edgy he sounded and the fact he'd just brought up keeping Jason's secrets, he decided against it. The decision hurt a lot more than he expected. Alfred had always been the one man he trusted above all else and he didn't like the idea of hiding anything from him when for the last couple of weeks he'd told him everything.

“Master Todd, I have never been so disappointed in you!” Alfred started.

“I find that hard to believe.” He couldn't help but doubt aloud. “But what did I do this time?”

“Did you think we wouldn't find out about Detective Bullock and Master Grayson's fight?” The butler countered. He wondered when Dick would get around to telling them about his suspension, though he was a little shocked it had taken this long, especially after Dick's lecture about keeping secrets and being honest with each other.

“Wow. I definitely didn't miss _this_ part of family.” Jason snapped. “Please, tell me exactly how I am responsible for Dick's colossal temper tantrum when I was miles away from him?”

“To have even involved another in all of this drama is what I am referring to, Master Todd. To put either man in the position you have is beneath you.” Alfred lectured. “I expected better of you. Bringing Detective Bullock into this mess has not only harmed his already tarnished reputation but has put Master Grayson's career in harms way, not to mention the the added pain that your alleged affair with the Detective has caused.”

“What the fuck did you want me to do? Bleed out and die?” He asked through gritted teeth before he could reign in his temper. “I had to go to someone!”  
“Do you know how worried about you I've been?” Alfred demanded in that still calm voice, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. “Since the moment Dick told us you'd been hurt, I've been waiting to hear from you. I thought for sure you would require medical attention and I was prepared to help you but when I heard nothing for the past two days?”

“I'm sorry, Alfred. You're right. I should have told you.” He bit at his lower lip nervously. He did that a lot when he wasn't able to smoke. He really wanted one, especially while he was talking to Alfred about all of this. “Honestly, I had a back plan though and it worked. I'm not sorry for that but in the future, regardless of what's going on with the others, I will make sure you know what's going on as soon as I am able to.”

There was a long pause over the phone and Jason knew he must have been pretty upset about everything. He had no doubt that Alfred was pissed as Hell at Dick for waiting so long to tell them what had happened and combining that with the fear that Jason was dead somewhere was probably enough to drive the man mad. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty, even if Alfred should have known he was safe considering he texted Alfred that day and requested he call Dick back to him.

“I cannot believe you did that to Detective Bullock and to Master Grayson.”

“What?” Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on Alfred, what was I supposed to do? I was bleeding out and I damned sure couldn't stay conscious long enough to ride out to the Manor even if I had wanted to. The hospitals certainly weren't an option, so I relied on my partner.”

“And this business about you two being together? Master Todd, he's twice your age!” Alfred reminded. “You told me you cared about Dick, that you were falling in love with him. Do you really expect me to believe you are two are actually a couple?”

“Wasn't it you that said it could never work? Dick's my _brother,_ remember?” He asked bitterly, because he hated that it was the truth. “You said he couldn't accept JT Bennet because of the murder and we both know he'd never let himself love Jason Todd.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep from feeling so...pathetic. The other day it had been funny to see Dick so angry and jealous. Hell it had been flattering. Now, though, it just hurt. It reminded him that he still had one more secret to spill with his former lover. It reminded him that there was no way Dick would ever see him as anything but an obnoxious, vicious pretender who broke too many of Bruce's rules. That there could never be anything more between them. Not the way Jason wanted, anyhow.

“I also told you to tell him the truth or you'd never stand a chance with him. You still have time to do the right thing, Master Todd. Don't wait for him to figure it out on his own. It will hurt him far more than this supposed relationship with Detective Bullock.”

Jason shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “It's not a ruse, Alfred. I've been seeing him off and on since Black Mask hospitalized me.” He lied as he kept his voice steady and sincere. “It wasn't official between us until Dick found out I was The Hood.”

The strained silence made it clear that Alfred wasn't sure he believed him and yet had nothing to contradict him. The way Jason saw it, six years had passed and Alfred simply couldn't be sure if he knew him well enough to call his bluff anymore. He really, really hated lying to him about Harvey, but if the old man knew they were lying then it would be even easier to discover that Harvey knew Bennet was The Hood.

That couldn't be allowed. If any of the Bat-clan thought or believed that Harvey knew that JT Bennet was The Red Hood, they'd never trust that he couldn't or wouldn't figure out their own real identities. This kept everyone safe, especially since Jason had no intention of letting the old detective discover the truth about the Wayne family. They just needed to think he was a know-nothing loser with far too much hatred for any and all vigilantes.

“So the night you told me you were falling fast for Master Grayson, you were lying?” Alfred asked calmly, but their was strained anger starting to come through his words.

“No, Al, I wasn't lying, I just wasn't telling the whole truth. Nothing you told me the other day was new information, you know? I knew he couldn't be with me and I knew he wouldn't want to once he knew the truth, so yeah. I started falling for him, but since I had something on the side it didn't hurt as much when Dick dumped me for a second time.”

“You promised you wouldn't hurt them.” Alfred reminded. “You've broken your word since making that promise and this isn't the first time either.”

Well, fuck. What did he say to that? He shook his head because he knew Alfred was right, but he had to protect Bullock and Alfred's precious family from each other. He couldn't cave, he couldn't tell him what he knew he so desperately wanted to hear. So when neither spoke, Jason bit out a quick goodbye and hung up.

Harvey came in after another ten minutes, bringing with him that intoxicating tobacco smell that only served to remind him how badly he wanted one himself. He both hated and loved Harvey so much for bringing along the smell of cigarettes back in on his coat; he was torn between punching him and kissing him.

“Had to walk across the damned street just for a cigarette.” He complained as he flopped back into the recliner. “This no smoking on Hospital grounds is everything that's wrong with America.”

Jason laughed at his bitching as he nodded his head. “Yeah back in the good ole' days you could light up right in the middle of a hospital. They probably didn't even care if you had an oxygen tank strapped to your ass.”

“Don't mock me, Kid. It's cold as Mr. Freeze's balls outside and now my fingers are numb.” He griped, but he saw the humor in his dingy blue eyes. “So, you get everything all squared away?”

“Yep.” Jason nodded before turning his attention to the TV.

“So how long before you check yourself out?” Harvey asked and before Jason could even start to deny it he rolled his eyes. “Don't bother, Bennet, we both know you aren't sitting around this hell-hole any longer than you have to, especially being in the cross-hairs of that black masked freak.”

He twisted his lips into a grin as he shrugged. “Actually, being here is safest for me. Especially with you and your friends guarding me twenty-four-seven.”

“You don't trust them.” Bullock denied.

He nodded and took a deep breath. “Leaving first thing in the morning. I'll uh, leave some of my shit in your place and pop in and out once in a while to keep up the ruse and then you can publicly dump me whenever you're ready to.”

Harvey smirked and looked down at his hands and then back at him, something awkward in his mind starting to show on his face. “You don't trust people to really care about you, do you?”

“What?” Jason shifted uncomfortably in the bed and tried to laugh it off. “Dude, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“JT, you told me yourself you broke it off with Dick before he could find out about who and what you are. Now I'm not saying he would have stuck around, because on that count, I agree with you. Goody-Two-Shoes would have dumped your ass in half a heart beat but then, you didn't really give him a chance either, did ya?”

If only he knew, Jason sighed and then looked up at the ceiling trying not to let this get too weird or awkward. “What's your point, Man?”

“From the moment I saw you in that hospital, all beat up and sassing everyone including me, I've liked ya.” Harvey admitted. “Not in a, you know? Not in a, a-

“I get it, Harv. You're not gay.” Jason laughed if only to save the older man from tripping over his tongue any further.

Harvey nodded but grimaced before he continued. “You weren't afraid of shit and it was legitimate. It wasn't some phony macho-man crap, it was just who you were and I wanted so much for you not to die or get killed.” Harvey took a deep breath. “My point is, I _am_ with you until the end, Kid and I want you to stay with me for a while.”

“Why?” Jason frowned.

“Same reason I told the Commissioner, because you need an ally, you need someone to watch and have your back.” Harvey explained. “I've done the lone ranger thing for a while and it doesn't get any easier. Especially when you have more than one faction of assholes gunning for ya.”

It wasn't that easy, it really wasn't. Jason shook his head and tried to reason with him. “Do you realize that Black Mask and Joker won't give two flying fucks that you're a detective? Do you understand that every minute spent with me could be another shaved off your life expectancy? These guys are coming for blood and I don't want you mixed up in that, Harv.”  
“Then why'd you come to me, JT?” Harvey countered. “Why'd you have me get involved with The Red Hood to begin with?”

“Having you run evidence or even conceal evidence is a Hell of a lot different than moving in with you and pretending to be your boyfriend. That puts us in close proximity and could actually make it more difficult to protect you from not only the bad guys, but several of the good guys as well.”

“I ain't afraid of the bat or his sidekicks.” Harvey assured him. “We've had plenty of run-ins and I'm still standing.”

Jason sighed as he stared up at the ceiling. What was with all these people trying to help him all of sudden? Though, Harvey had a good point. If he hadn't wanted to endanger him, he shouldn't have brought him in to begin with. Still, moving in was really dangerous and yet where else could he go? JT Bennet was a high profile figure right now and disappearing off the grid wasn't going to help him maintain his cover in the slightest.

“You know you're going to have to get real comfortable with kissing me, right?” Jason warned, hoping maybe that would frighten Bullock off.

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Considering I've done it a few times now, I'd say that was pretty obvious, Bennet.”

“Yeah but it has to look natural. Guys like Batman, Joker and probably even Black Mask are so successful at what they do because they can read people. They'll know if you're faking it.”

Harvey stared at him for a long time before a grin cracked the serious look. “Are you trying to seduce me, JT?”

He flushed brightly and shook his head adamantly. “What? No! Of course not!” He denied. “I just, I'm trying to make sure you know how difficult this is going to be!”

“Riiiight. It's got nothing to do with that crush you said you had on me or trying to trick me into kissing you for 'practice'?” He felt his heart stutter. Was Bullock teasing him? Teasing _him_? What the fuck kind of alternate reality had he slipped into? “If you really think we need the practice, then by all means, let's do it. I'm pretty comfortable with my sexuality so it ain't gonna bother me.”

The heat in his cheeks told him he was still bright red and he knew of only one way to deal with Harvey teasing him. “Fuck off, Harvey.”

The man laughed loudly at him and took his hand into his as he looked up at the TV. “It's all about comfort, Kid. You just gotta make yourself comfortable.”

Swallowing hard, JT did his best not to yank his hand out of the other man's. It was just as important that he get used to Harvey as it was the other way around. Especially since they were both trying to sell the fact that they'd been hooking up since his first hospital stay.

Clearly, Bullock was a lot more confident in himself than he'd ever believed possible. He'd always assumed the man had low self-esteem and that he built this slovenly detective act up to protect himself, but maybe, just maybe, Harvey really didn't give a shit about what people thought of him. It was comforting to know that Harvey Bullock was capable and willing to stand at his side in whatever capacity he needed of him.

“No matter what happens, Harv, I won't let any of them come after you.” Jason promised, hoping it hadn't sounded nearly as awkward as it felt.

“I'm a cop, Kid.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “And we live in Gotham. You can't make those kinds of promises here. Shit happens” After a brief pause Harvey's eyes found his. “But I can promise you that I won't blame you or regret this should things go South for me.”

He did the only thing he could do and nodded. For the past two days it had been easy and a little fun to pretend they were together, because as soon as people left the room, they distanced themselves. All of that would change now, but knowing Harvey wasn't afraid of it made it easier for him to agree to move in with him. They could always 'break-up' when the time came and for now, he'd admit that it would be nice to have a real friend again.

“So, how long were you out of Gotham for?” Harvey asked after another few minutes of watching TV.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you had a crush on me when you were a teenager, that makes you a local.” Harvey pointed out.

“You're too smart for your own good, you know that?” Jason smirked.

“No answer?” Bullock challenged without removing his hand but without looking at him either.

“It's been six years.” He answered. “I inherited the company and decided to come back and do something good with it.”

Bullock nodded. “So who were you back then?”

“What?” He asked and faked confusion.

“I don't recall running into any skunks six years ago.” Harvey teased. “So who were you back then that you knew me well enough to crush on me?”

Again Jason blushed. “You didn't know me. I just read about you a lot in the papers.” He lied. “You were pictured a few times and I thought you were, are, I mean were. Definitely were; attractive.”

The older man chuckled and shook his head. “I'm certainly no Dick Grayson, Kid, but I definitely think I qualify as 'are', don't you?”

“Okay, you've had your fun!” Jason scowled at him. “We're done with this conversation, alright?”

“Come on, I need to know.” Harvey continued, though it was pretty obvious he was just trying to get further under his skin. “Is it really 'were' or is it 'are'.”

“You know what Bullock, quite frankly I'm alarmed at your behavior.” Jason did his best imitation of Alfred without the British accent. “Here I am, dumped twice in one damned month by my boyfriend and you're trying to get into my pants.”

Havey's blue eyes widened in shock as he laughed. “Hey now, wait a second there, Mr. Bennet. I believe you were the one who came onto me first. All those eyes you flashed me when you were all busted up and ugly.”

Jason laughed and shook his head. “Pfft, even black and blue I was still gorgeous and you know it. You wanted me, the nurse wanted me, Kitzky wanted me.”

“Yeah, we wanted you alright. Wanted to punch you're smart mouth.” He grinned. “Obnoxious little rich boy telling me how to do my job? Let me tell ya how badly I wanted you.”

They continued to laugh and tease each other until the nurse came into check Jason's pain level. He of course told them he was fine and ready to go home but the woman informed him that the doctor wanted at least one more night before they gave him a medical release. She left shortly after making sure he was comfortable.

“Hey umm, are you okay?” Harvey asked.

He arched one of his brows, staring at the man in confusion. “Okay? To what are you referring, Detective? To the stab-wound?”

“No. I mean, you know...about Dick?” Harvey shifted in the chair, a sign he was anxious and unsure of his own line of questioning.

With a heavy sigh he shrugged his shoulders. “Not completely, no. I really cared about him, if that's what you're asking, but as we both know, it would never have worked. If I'm being completely honest, it will take some time to get over, but I'll be okay.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm right here.” Harvey assured him. “I'm sorry that he and I got into it the other day, too. That couldn't have been helpful.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jason grinned. “I've never been fought over before, for real or for pretend, so it was quite the ego boost.”

The older man laughed again before giving his hand a squeeze. “Good looking guys like you and Grayson don't need your ego inflated further.”

“Yeah, but it's still nice.” Jason insisted, wanting to keep the conversation light.

Despite the way he acted with Dick that day or the way he currently joked, he wasn't okay. Not when it came to Dick. Sure he thought he could just make him a one night stand months ago and get over him, but he'd severely underestimated Golden Boy's charm as well as his own long standing attraction to the acrobat. What made it worse was that it wasn't just physical attraction, it was Dick's magnetic personality, too.

There was a reason that Dick made friends so easily, and that reason had a lot to do with the unwavering loyalty he inspired in people like Barbara, Wally and Roy. He was a social person who aimed to please. He was kind and sincere with very few flaws. It was amazing just how opposite they were of one another and yet how greatly they had fit together.

“You zoned out on me,” Harvey announced. “You sure you're gonna be okay?”

“Totally.” He nodded. “Besides, I've got you now.”

With a small smile and a nod, Harvey went back to watching TV and it wasn't long before they were both out. Jason's final thoughts before slipping into blissful unconsciousness were focused on the relief he felt in having Harvey Bullock as his friend and ally, as well as knowing that he'd finally admitted aloud that he wasn't over Dick. After all, admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery.

 

* * *

 

March 7th

0230 hrs

Wayne Manor

 

In a little more than eight hours, they would all be heading to the hospital to pick Bruce up and bring him home. He stood under the spray of the shower in the Batcave, his muscles aching and his mind weary. It was actually a small relief that he'd been suspended when he considered that for the next week or so, he'd have to make sure both Bruce and Tim were staying home, that Roy was healing and having only Barbara has back-up while he patrolled the city.

Tonight had been strangely quiet, just like the past two nights had been. Part of him wondered if that meant Joker was gearing up for something terrifying. Even Black Mask's men hadn't been out and about. Tonight had just been a few muggers that were easily knocked out and left for the police to pick up and toss in jail.

When he finally felt clean he changed into his sweats, which doubled as pajamas. Barbara had gone to bed with Roy shortly after he returned to the cave. Alfred and Tim had gone to bed hours ago, something Tim desperately needed. His carelessness had been alarming, especially when he thought about how hard Tim always worked to stay on top of things.

He climbed the stairs after making sure everything was locked up properly. He had originally intended to make full use of the Batcave and do some investigating and research on JT Bennet but he was just too exhausted. Besides, every time he thought about his ex he could only focus on their break up and then of course their encounter at the hospital the day he was suspended.

As he walked down the hall toward the bedroom he still used when he spent the night, he couldn't help but look at Jason's door as he passed it. He pressed his hand gently on the door and closed his eyes. If only his brother were here. He could help Dick keep Bruce and Tim in line while they were supposed to be out of the game.

His room was hotter than expected so he found himself stripping out of his sweats and shirt, leaving him in him in his boxers. He climbed into his bed and the moment his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed, even as his mind opened up.

 

_Dreams are strange. He thought to himself as the world around him began to fall into place. Dick walked toward Jessie-Ann, a pretty girl he knew he'd dated right around the time that Jason had joined the Teen Titans. She was wearing a short denim skirt that barely covered her perfectly round buttocks and a black halter top that hugged her ample breasts. She giggled at him and kissed his cheek as she appeared magically beside him. “I really missed you.”_

_“Seriously, why is she here?” Jason hissed, the shorter boy glaring at both of them irritably. “She's not a Titan and she isn't supposed to know your identity, genius.”_

_He blinked as he recognized Titan Tower and wondered why she was up here with them. How had she known to come? Actually, hadn't he broken up with her years ago? He started to look around the Tower wondering where everyone was when he heard Jason and Jessie-Ann arguing with one another._

_“Shut up,_ _**Toad** _ _.” Jessie-Ann snapped back, her hands on her hips. “_ _I've got the richest, hottest guy in Gotham wrapped around my little finger and there's nothing you can do about it.”_

_Wait, shouldn't that have been whispered?_

_“Oh please, Dick here's not that into you. You're just a piece of ass for him to hit when he's bored.” Jason snarled cruelly but his voice wasn't his own, it was JT's._

_Dick glared at Jason. “Knock it off and quite talking like him. You shouldn't be swearing like that. It'll rot your teeth out.” He warned._

_“Spare me the after school special, Dickie-Bird.” His younger brother rolled his eyes with his own voice._

_Before he could say anything, Wally and Roy approached in their costumes, though for some reason Wally wasn't speeding about. He walked at the same pace as his friend. “Hey, the others are on their way. We shouldn't start without them.”_

_Roy grabbed Jason and ruffled his hair before giving him a soft push backward. “What's your problem now, Toad.”  
“Don't call him that, Roy.” Dick snapped. “You don't know what he's gone through!” _

_“Will you stop fucking babying me? I can handle anything you guys can!” Jason insisted, suddenly changing from his jeans and t-shirt to his Robin costume. Or rather, Dick's Robin costume._

_“I can't believe either of you ever wore that ridiculous outfit!” Wally laughed. “At least Flash costumes always covered us from head to toe.”_

_“Yeah, like a giant condom.” JT's voice snapped, but was once again coming from Jason's mouth._

_“Guys, why is there a girl here?” Kon-El asked he joined the conversation.  
“What cause girls don't belong?” Starfire demanded. _

_“No, because_ _**that** _ _girl doesn't belong,” Cyborg appeared next._

_Dick frowned as he looked to Jessie-Ann. “Well cause she does belong. She's trying out for the team.”_

_“I still don't see how you two have any say in this.” Jason growled. “You aren't even Titans anymore, not really.”_

_“Actually, Toad, we run the Titans so it's all ours to control.” Roy argued._

_“Except you aren't exactly Teens.” Kon-El pointed out._

_“And you are?” Dick frowned._

_“Seriously guys, why is that civilian here?” Cyborg asked._

_“Because it's time to replace Jason.” Dick answered._

_“What?!” Jason shrieked angrily. “No fair! I deserve to be here as much as any of you wannabes!”_

_As Titans of old and new assembled out of nowhere, Dick found himself sitting beside Jessie-Ann at a large round table. Jason was the only one not seated with them as he was standing in a corner pouting, almost like he was in a time out._

_“All in favor of Jessie-Ann?” Starfire asked._

_A resounding nay was echoed and suddenly, Jessie-Ann disappeared, leaving the seat beside him empty. “So now what?” Tim asked. “Who do we replace Jason with?”_

_“We could add that Spoiler girl?” Beast Boy suggested._

_“She died.” Barbara frowned, wearing her Batgirl costume even as she sat in a wheel chair. “Besides, she was too young.”_

_“No younger than most us were when we started. We used to be called_ _**Teen** _ _Titans for a reason.” Garth reminded everyone._

_“Oh, how about Donna Troy?” Starfire smiled._

_“I'm already here, Kori.” Donna laughed._

_“Guys, I don't need to be replaced!” Jason shouted from his corner._

_“Yes you do, Jason. You're dangerous and unstable.” Barbara frowned as she was suddenly standing and no longer in a wheelchair. “There's a darkness in him, Bruce. A darkness that's spreading out of control and I don't know much how longer simply fighting crime will be enough for him.”_

_“Dude, I got it.” Roy beamed. “Let's invite The Red Hood.”_

_As Dick looked to the corner, Jason had disappeared completely. He looked all around but he was nowhere to be found. He sighed and shrugged. “I guess that wouldn't be so bad.” He decided. “But this time no killing. Okay, JT?”_

_When he looked up to the center of the room JT Bennet stood atop the table dressed awkwardly in the very Robin outfit that Jason had been wearing moments before he disappeared. It looked terrible on a grown man as large as JT was. His black and white hair fell over his eyes, eyes that were briefly unmasked to reveal the same teal eyes that he must have shared or traded with Jason. Blinking a second time, the red domino mask was back in place along with the white lenses._

_No one seemed to think the look was odd or strange, except JT who sneered down at him. “Really? Back to the peter pan underwear? This is seriously the worst costume we've ever warn.”_

_“We?”_

_“Yeah, Dickie-Bird. We.” JT cocked his hip out before resting a hand on it. “The fucking replacement never had to wear this shit? Why did we?”_

_“We?”_

_“Yeah, Dickie-Bird. We.”_

_Suddenly everything changed again and the large group of young men and women in costume were running as fast they could to a large building. It was hazy but somehow Dick knew it was the warehouse that Jason had been trapped in, the one that Bruce had described in his written reports of that fateful day that Jason Todd had been blown up._

_This time, however, they were going to save him. They were going to rescue him because they had JT Bennet on their side and for some reason, that was going to make the difference. That was going to change his little brother's fate._

_The Joker's laugh surrounded them and Dick felt chills running up his spine as everything turned dark. Black and gray clouds rolled in as lightning began to flash and thunder bellowed in the sky above them._

_Another crack of thunder and the building exploded, knocking them all back from the force of the blast. All but JT, who ran straight to the rubble and pulled the limp body of Jason into his arms, again the same way that Bruce had described doing in his report. How had it all ended up the same? They had JT this time._

_“I'm so sorry, JT.” Roy frowned as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. JT looked up to him with tears in his angry eyes before he looked back to the boy lying in his arms. “We'll try again, okay? We'll start over again and this time you can save him.”_

_Dick ran forward and dropped to his knees, the area around them turning from the warehouse to JT's penthouse, though he still cradled Jason in his arms. The couch was between them again and still protected them from one another as JT glared down at him. Their positions were reversed, with Dick on his knees while JT stood, his lip curled into a snarl._

_“JT, I'm sorry. Like Roy said, we'll just start over.”_

_JT cried out as angry, grief stricken tears fell down his cheeks. “You_ _**still** _ _don't get it, do you? That man that ruined_ _**me** _ _?” He held Jason up a little higher making clear reference to the deceased boy. “The man that took everything from me; gets to walk around this God forsaken city day in and day out!”_

 

Dick gasped himself awake as his heart raced and his body trembled. His eyes filled with tears at the horror of his nightmare. He tried to calm himself, tried to think and reason but he also needed to remember everything he could about the nightmare before it disappeared from his memory as so many had in the past.

Then again, with the terrible things that happened, he wasn't sure that he could forget, even if he wanted to. The truth, unsettling as it was, was slowly sinking in. His mind reinforced the dream with every flash, with every clue that should have pointed to what Tim had tried to warn him was so clearly sitting under his nose.

JT stood for Jason Todd. JT Bennet was Jason Todd. His brother was alive somehow. He felt sick at the thought and he barely made it to the attached bathroom before the contents of stomach evacuated into the porcelain toilet. He tried to cry, he tried to choke, but all he could do was stare down at the mess and wonder how this had happened.

In the back of his mind he noted to himself that Tim knew, and considering Alfred's odd behavior, the butler most likely knew as well. Bruce couldn't have known, could he? It seemed impossible given how stoic and unmoved he'd been since they learned JT was The Red Hood .

Once more he wretched out anything remaining in his stomach. The realization that Jason Todd had become the monster that Gotham feared was too much. He couldn't face it, he didn't want to face it. It wasn't even possible. Dead was supposed to be dead! How had this happened? He trembled and sobbed as he moved away from the toilet and curled in on himself.

What the Hell was he supposed to do now?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest debate my roommate and I had over this chapter was the ending. It's my style to cut things off semi-abruptly as most of you know, but she likes things to transition smoothly into the next segment. Haha. So yeah. Guess we can tell who won this argument. Anyhow, I really hope everyone liked it. The dream sequence is supposed to be weird and it's not supposed to entirely make sense or even flow right. I really hope I captured what dreaming is like, I know that most of my dreams are very random and abrupt. Sometimes I know I am dreaming in the dream and other times I don't. So yeah. Thanks again for reading, Happy Belated Halloween.


	31. Downward Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger Warning*** Drug abuse mentioned often through out this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: The topic of drugs is brought up quite a bit in this chapter. It will deal a little with cravings pain and some sad thoughts. Just please be aware of what you are about to read. 
> 
> This chapter is written in memory of my little sister, Amy. This December marks the 4th year anniversary of her passing. If you or your loved ones are struggling with addiction, please, just reach out for help. There are people out there who love you and need you and would give anything to have one more day with you.

Chapter 31

 

March 6th

2330hrs

Wayne Manor

 

Roy wheeled himself into the bedroom he’d been staying in. He was pissed off and he wanted to get the Hell out of this damned mansion, but with the injury that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. The only good thing about staying in Wayne Manor was that it was like a test run for he and Barbara to see if they liked or could handle living together. Unfortunately, Barbara had headed down to the cave to assist Dick with patrols rather than sit in bed, cuddle and watch some Netflix with him. He couldn’t help the bitter stab of jealousy that ripped through him at the thought.

No, he wasn’t jealous of Dick and Barbara spending time together. Hell, he wasn’t even jealous that Barbara was down in the Batcave without him. He was jealous of Dick and the healthy bastard’s opportunity to be out in the thick of it protecting his city! He was jealous of his best friend’ ability to move without a limp, of his ability to run and jump. He was jealous of Dick’s future; a future he’d always imagined he’d share as a partner in crime. Or rather law enforcement, either way they had always planned to work side by side and now that might be gone.

Fuck Dick for sleeping with the bastard that single-handedly destroyed his life! He felt his hands tremble as he gripped the tires of his wheelchair, his leg beginning to throb. He was fuming internally and he had no way to burn it off. Not safely and not without excruciating pain. He’d already done the max amount of time he was allowed for physical therapy, but all he wanted to do was take a run, or fuck even a walk at this point. Anything to get out of the damned chair!

Guilt dropped in his stomach like a lead weight. Who the Hell was he to be so impatient and angry? While he might not run or jump again with the same ease and skill he had before, he knew he was in fact going to walk again. His life was not going to be restricted to a wheelchair and yet here was wanting to throw a temper tantrum. His stomach turned as he thought of how bravely Barbara had accepted her own circumstances, of how she had maturely and graciously transitioned to a life she had never wanted.

Why couldn’t he be like her? Why did it always come down to his own selfish desires? He sub-consciously started to rub the muscles burning in his thigh. Ollie had been right about him. He was nothing but a selfish, conceited and spoiled brat. Sure he’d suffered tragedy in his life, but as Wally had pointed out, who hadn’t? Was he ever going to change? Were things ever going to get better for him? When was he going to grow up?

_And you’re right back to the self-pitying!_ He looked into the mirror above the dresser and stared at his reflection. _Look at you. You’re disgusting and pathetic. A sorry excuse for a friend, let alone a boyfriend! Fuck, Harper! What the Hell is wrong with you?_ He looked away and tried to ignore that familiar pain that was often triggered when he was in self-deprecation mode.

Running his hands through his hair while gritting his teeth, he thought of everyone he was staying sober for. He thought of everyone he loved and even the people he wanted to prove wrong, but it was hurting and the pressure? The pressure was suffocating. The weight of everyone’s opinions and the fear of his own failure only made it hurt more.

He grabbed his phone from his pant pocket and scrolled through his contacts with a shaking hand. His leg hurt and he knew that Alfred couldn’t, no wouldn’t, give him any more pain killers and he just needed to take the edge off. Maybe when his leg stopped hurting he could drive out the rest of the negativity. He found the number he was looking for and quickly texted before he could change his mind.

His phone rang moments later and he hesitantly picked it up when the person he’d texted returned the call. “Hey.”

“Meet me in room 210 at the Motel 6 on Holiday and 5th.” The man’s voice ordered before the phone hung up.

He cringed but took a deep breath as he slowly moved about the room to get ready for the chilly night. He’d need to be as quiet as possible or Alfred, Tim, or Barbara might see and he just couldn’t handle the looks on their faces. He couldn’t look at any of them right now. Not yet. Not until after. He frowned as stared down at his trembling hands.

He’d made the call, he’d set up the meeting. There was no turning back now.

 

* * *

 

0007hrs

Motel 6

 

Roy should have brought a cane or his crutches, but his pride and his fear of being taken advantage of didn’t allow it. The meant streets of Gotham didn’t care how old, how sick, or how hurt you were. If anything, you were an easier target for the muggers; especially in this part of the neighborhood. He handed the cabbie his cash and carefully limped out of the car, making sure to put all the weight on his good leg. He nearly stumbled as he started to walk, the pain ripping through him from the center of his thigh and radiating up and down that side of his body.

He limped carefully to the elevator and down the hall, his hands still trembling even as he used one to clutch at the walls. His mind raced almost as quickly as his heart. Was he really going to go through with this? Tears burned in his eyes at the nausea and sickness that he felt as he stepped nearer and nearer to the room. The pain was probably at its worst and the need for something, anything at this point to numb it all away was more than he could bare.

Taking a deep breath he as he reached the door he did his best to think back on Barbara and Dick and Wally, but he didn’t give a shit about them right then. He didn’t. He just wanted to be numb, he wanted to be high, he wanted to be as far away from his body as he could be and he just wanted to wallow in despair.

The door opened before he could even knock and all of his weight was taken from the ground as he was crushed into a nearly painful hug. Tears fell down his cheeks even as they burned red in horror and humiliation. He was still mad, still angry and he wanted the fucking drugs, but no. No instead he’d called _him._  He’d called the one man he knew that could break him down more than his own mind. The one man who at times had been the driving force toward drugs to begin with.

His adoptive father finally let him go, more carefully than he normally would have, and then looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry it came to this, Roy. I’m sorry that you had to text me, but I’m glad you did.” He sighed and then helped him over to the bed.

“It hurts.” Roy admitted feeling stupid and yet what he needed wasn’t available and he wasn’t sure what he could do to fix it. He just hoped, hoped like he had when he texted him, that Oliver Queen would be able to save his day. That he’d be able to help him defeat this pain and this need.

“What triggered you, what happened?” Oliver asked.

“Typical bull shit you know,” he shrugged it off, not wanting Oliver to think that he believed his pain was any more severe than anyone else’s. “self-pitying over the injury and why it happened and thinking about how much better Barbara was about it all and…”

“Hey, stop.” Oliver ordered. “Sit on the bed, give your leg a rest and start over.”

Roy glared angrily, he couldn’t even confess his sins right. He felt that surge of resentment flair up and he even though he sat down, all he really wanted to do was run. This had been a mistake. “What the fuck do you want from me, Ollie?”

“Start over Roy and tell me what happened.” He answered calmly as he dragged a rollie chair from the beat-up desk and sat in front of him.

“I was… I was mad and I realized how shitty it was for me to be feeling sorry for myself –

“That right there, just stop for a moment and think.” Oliver interrupted. “Roy, I’m glad you recognize that self-pity does not do you any good, but the fact of the matter is that you are hurt and you will be down for a long time while you heal. That’s the reality and you must let yourself process that.

“You can’t just by-pass that grieving process just because someone else went through something worse than you.” Oliver frowned. “What happened to Barbara was tragic and I admire the strength it took to handle a terrible situation with the grace she did. She’s my hero for that, Roy and while I hope that never happens to me, I would like to think I could take it like she did.”

“That’s all I’m saying!” Roy snapped.

“No, it’s not. If you think that she didn’t have depressing or bad days, then you have a lot more to learn about people in general, Roy.” Oliver sighed as he leaned back in the chair. “No matter how well she appears to handle it on the outside, I guarantee you she had nights where she cried herself to sleep and days where she didn’t want to get out of bed. She’s Human, Roy, just like you. She probably still has the kinds of days and nights.”

“You’re saying it’s okay for me to get mad even though I’m dating a woman who will never have the opportunity to stand again?” Roy frowned, somehow feeling like he was walking into a trap.

“Hell yes!” Oliver’s eyes widened as he exclaimed loudly. “Her pain, no matter how much greater than yours, does _not_ cancel your pain out.”

Roy blinked in surprise, not at all expecting that kind of response. He wanted to believe him, he wanted to think it possible, but it still felt so out of line with what he personally believed. People suffered tragedies all the time, but he really didn’t think half the people out there had much room to whine or bitch when you considered that others went through far worse.

“If this happened to Dick or Wally, would you think they were wrong to be angry or depressed about the recovery they faced?”

“Not at all.”

“Even in comparison to Barbara?”

He blinked again and found himself shaking his head.

“It’s good, Roy, that you want to move on, that you want to handle things with grace, maturity and dignity and I’m proud of you for that.” Oliver smiled softly. “But, Son, it’s ok to have bad days. You can’t hold yourself to impossible standards like you do.” The smile dropped and Roy knew he was going to say something he didn’t want to hear. “I worry that the standards I once held you to, the ones you hold yourself to are the reasons you still struggle with your addiction.”

Once again, he felt his eyes burn as he nodded. “I don’t want to fail.” He choked and then buried his face in his hands because he didn’t want Oliver to see him cry again. He didn’t want to make this anymore uncomfortable and yet all the anger, all the guilt and especially the pain just flowed right out of him as he began to sob.

He didn’t know how much time had passed as he cried for the first time in years. All he knew was that at some point his father had sat on the bed beside him and allowed him to cry on his shoulder. Literally. The older man held him tight and didn’t let go until he could add pounding headache to his list of pains.

When he started to settle down, he felt dumber than he had before, but some of the _other_ pain had in fact dissipated. It was still there and so was the craving, but it was…manageable. At least for a few more hours. He pulled himself away from the older man and looked down at the floor, not really sure what to say to him.

“How about telling me what brought you to this point. What got you mad in the first place?” Oliver coaxed in a quiet but still demanding tone.

Roy frowned. “You’ll just be even more disappointed in me and I’m not sure I can face that tonight.”

Oliver’s eyes softened for a moment. “I can’t promise you that I will react calmly, I too am only Human.” He started. “However, if you don’t deal with what happened, then it’s likely to sneak up on you again, only maybe next time it’s not me you choose to contact.”

He rolled his eyes. “Way to pile on the guilt there, Ollie.” Still, the man had a point so he took a deep breath and thought about his conversation with Dick. The one before Barbara and Tim and Alfred joined them, the one about why Dick’s psycho ex shot a damned grappling gun into his leg. There’d been a lot he felt and so much more he hadn’t explained to Dick. Why? Because, as usual he reacted angrily. He didn’t let the thoughts settle within, nor did he examine them before getting defensive.

“Roy?”

“Okay!” He snapped irritably with a roll of his eyes. “Today Dick told me why his stupid ex shot me in the leg.”

“Why does that matter?” Oliver frowned.

“Because the fucker was right!” Roy shouted as jumped up from the bed. He immediately regretted the movement and gripped his leg with a hiss. He quickly sat down without being told to and heaved a sigh of self-disgust. “I denied it to Dick, told him it had to be something more, something personal, but I…I look back now and I know he was right.”

“So why did he shoot you?” Oliver frowned.

“I didn’t come out to Gotham _just_ to spend time with Babs and Dick.” Roy admitted aloud. It was a secret that had been eating at him since his arrival. “I came out for them of course, but it was also to check out The Red Hood.”

There was bit of understanding that lit up in Oliver’s eyes, but thankfully he didn’t say anything and he didn’t glare. He gestured for him to continue with a wave of his left hand and Roy took a deep steadying breath as he tried not to focus on how badly his leg was throbbing from his earlier movement.

"When I heard about what this guy was doing I was intrigued. I wanted to know more. The bat-clan doesn’t kill, and you don’t kill unless it’s absolutely life and death. Same with most of the others in the JL.” Roy started. “But this guy? He just takes ‘em out. I looked back on every kill and not one was a dirty kill. Even the bank robbers all had histories of violent crimes up to and including murder.

“I was…I was thinking of joining up with him.” He whispered as he looked down at the floor, too afraid of what he might see in Oliver’s hard blue eyes. “So many people I love have been killed or hurt and I thought that maybe, just maybe his ideals were for the best.”

“But?” Oliver prompted as he fell silent again.

“I was disgusted with myself when I realized how happy I was that he had just kicked Ryan Murphy to death, that he’d cut him open and made him suffer like the bastard’s own victims had. I was happy, Oliver, I was…I wanted the man to suffer more and then it just hit me.” His hands started to tremble again. “It was… _wrong_. I felt ill and I felt ashamed and I thought the only way I could make up for my inaction was to act.”

“So, you acted to make yourself feel better?” Oliver asked and Roy finally looked up to see his face was more neutral than he expected.

“For the most part.” He nodded. “Even in that moment I didn’t think he really belonged in prison. Hell, I just felt grateful that someone else could do it.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Look at Barbara, Ollie? Look at her! She’s in a wheelchair for the rest of her life! Why?” Roy demanded but this time he stopped himself from standing up again. “Because Batman didn’t kill the man who did it! Even after he took Robin’s life he let the fucker survive to come back and hurt them all over again!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Oliver smirked before he looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Roy, his way is dangerous. You can’t possibly-”

“I know.” Roy insisted.

“No, you don’t know. Not like I do.” Oliver frowned as he took his shoulder and made the younger man look him in the eyes. “I know what it’s like to kill, I know hard it is to come back from it. I know how hard it is to stop killing and worse, I know how much it torments good men.”

“What if I’m not a good man?” Roy asked softly as he closed his eyes.

“Bad men don’t care if they’re good.” Oliver informed him. “They don’t question their actions, they don’t feel remorse and they don’t worry if they’ve made the correct choice. Roy, even if you weren’t a good man, you have the potential to be as good or as bad as you want to be. You’ve spent your entire life with so much potential for greatness, and I think that changing your mind was proof that you _are_ a good man.”

“Dick’s still in love with the asshole.” Roy sighed.

“So I’ve seen.”

“Just how long have you been in this city?”

“Bruce requested my presence after Timothy was shot in the arm by this JT guy, but honestly? I’ve been flying in and out of the city since you were injured.” He admitted. “You know? Just in case you needed me.”

 Roy glared. “You didn’t trust me to stay clean?”

“Look at where we are, Roy. Even if that were the case, could you blame me?” He snapped and then frowned and shook his head. “No, Roy, that’s not why I came down. Yes, I knew that the painkillers could cause a relapse, yes, I knew you would struggle, but I trusted you to call me.”

“So then why are you here?” Roy demanded angrily.

“Because I live on the other side of the country, Roy! If you had need of me, if you needed my help for anything I wanted to be close by!” He nearly shouted as he stood up. Roy was envious. He hated being confined to a seated position, especially when he was being yelled at. “Because I knew that if you did need to call me, a six-hour flight might not be fast enough! Because if you needed assistance with your rehabilitation, I wouldn’t do much good on the west coast!”

“You mean to tell me you’ve just been sitting around waiting for me to call you?” Roy blustered in shock.

“Well what else was I supposed to do?” Oliver frowned. “Not like I could call you.”

“And just why the Hell not?” Roy demanded.

“Like you would have answered.” Oliver smirked. “You would have let it go to voicemail and then pretend you didn’t get the message. Hell, Roy, I’ve watched you do it in the past.”

“Cause you’re such a control freak!” Roy growled, oddly feeling better now that they were arguing instead of ‘bonding’. “You have to spy on me, you have to get up in my business, you have to babysit from a distance and it’s not because you care- He frowned and shook his head. “Ok, so maybe you care, but it’s also because you have to be involved! You have to be in charge!”

“I” Oliver started and then stopped. “I don’t actually have a response to that.”

“Oh please, you’re the man with the silver tongue, you always have a response.” Roy rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, no. No response. You’re absolutely right about my control issues.” Oliver confessed. “I do care very much about you and the others, Roy. I always have. I regret my stupidity in allowing you to fight crime at such a young age, too. If I knew then what I know now? You’d have never been allowed out in the streets with me.”

“Cause you needed more control.” Roy accused, but there was a hint of humor in his voice that he was fairly certain that his father had picked up on.

 “I have never been able to control you, Roy. If I had your life would have been much different, but then maybe that’s why it didn’t end up as I planned. Maybe I tried to interfere too much.”

“Okay, we’ve definitely entered the twilight zone.” He frowned. “I should, I should get back to the Manor before Barbara notices I’m missing. If she or the others figure out I left they’ll never believe I didn’t go find some stuff.”

Oliver nodded. “You should call a cab first. Sitting around this neighborhood outside while you wait would be a very bad idea.”

“Or,” Roy sighed. “Or you could give me a ride? By this time someone probably noticed and maybe if you bring me in they’ll believe me when I say that I’m still clean.”

Oliver smiled and offered him a hand and helped him get to his feet. He didn’t bother to say a word of appreciation and Roy was grateful. They’re relationship was awkward enough without Oliver thanking him for allowing him to help. There was a lot more they needed to work on, but despite what Roy had expected from this meeting, he was as pleased with it as he suspected his father was. Besides, to be fair it had done the trick, it had distracted him from his pain and it had reminded him that he still had a chance at redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a couple of quick though probably long notes. This chapter was written somewhat on the fly and it evolved several times. For those who will say this was out of character, I can only apologize and remind everyone that this is not a canon story and it was never meant to be. I will also point out that I know very little about comic book Oliver Queen and Roy Harper. Most of what I know is based on quick searches and the words of friends who claim to know the characters. Hopefully you guys liked this. 
> 
> Second, the reason this was written on the fly was because of a tragic computer virus that destroyed my work. It didn’t take it all out, but I didn’t have certain files backed up at the time and that included the original chapter 31 and all my notes for the next several chapters. Because I used Open Office at the time, the back manager never saved or protected the files as it didn’t recognize them as documents. I was heartbroken but I wanted to give you something while I try to re-write and get everything back together again. 
> 
> Finally, I am sorry if this was too personal, this note included. I just felt like I needed to write this conversation out for Roy’s sake. I didn’t want to just mention that he could struggle and then never show what those moments are like. The idea of filtering or never doing anything beyond mentioning it felt cheap, untrue and insulting to those who have suffered from addiction. People like my sister who happened to be addicted to the same drug the writers had Roy addicted to in the comics. A few times my sister was able to defeat her pain and cravings by picking fights with me or my mother and getting herself so distracted that she’d temporarily get past that need. That’s where the inspiration came from for this chapter. 
> 
> Please don’t stop reading, and I sincerely hope that I have not hurt anyone by posting a chapter like this. Happy Thanksgiving!


	32. Coming To Grips With It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is way, way later than agreed upon so I give up on deadlines. I apparently ignore them and I don’t want to keep upsetting you guys. You’ve been so wonderful to me, all I can say is that life happened and then I got really sick upon returning home to Texas. Hopefully you like where I’m taking this story. Sorry for any typos, didn’t have time to perform a final edit. Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience!

Chapter 32

 

March 7th

??:??

Somewhere in Gotham

His head ached as he took each step. He didn’t have a damned clue where he was and he wasn’t sure he cared at the moment. It didn’t matter that wherever he was, there was rain pouring down on him or that his clothing was completely soaked. The shivering was beyond him and he couldn’t care less that his nose and finger tips were starting to burn from the cold. That pain was nothing compared to agony he was suffering at his discovery.

Tim and Alfred knew. That he picked up on immediately and while he should have gone to them, he just couldn’t. As soon as he’d been able to get out of the bathroom and stand, he’d dressed himself and left the mansion. He’d been running for what felt like hours just as the rain started to come down. The sun might have been rising, but the clouds weren’t allowing it to be seen and that thought alone summed up how he felt. 

Jason should have been the rising Sun, this discovery should have brightened his life as the star would have this day, but it didn’t. Why? Because of heavy black, ominous clouds that hung-over head. Clouds of hatred, betrayal, lust, horror, murder and incest. Well, not really incest since they weren’t technically related. Hell, even by law they had never been deemed brothers, but still!

He hugged his arms around his chest as he kept himself from being sick. What was Bruce going to think? How was this even possible? All he had were questions and much like the night he and JT, no he and Jason Todd broke up, he had no chance of getting the answers he wanted.

With each step, he felt heavier and he knew it had little do with the rain weighing him down. He was exhausted in every way possible and yet his brain refused to shut down because he had to know what the Hell had happened! When did his life become so fucked up that Jason Todd was able to rise from the grave, and rise he must have because they buried him! He _saw_ it! He _felt_ his skin, he knew he was dead!

His mind immediately ran to the most likely scenario. Jason’s body had been removed just after the viewing when the casket had been closed for what was supposed to be the last time. After that? Who knew? He couldn’t even imagine who would do such a…Oh. He frowned as he remembered the Assassins.

Ok, so that answered all of that, or at least it did enough to quit dwelling on the shock of how. The real question was when and why? Jason Todd only came around just recently so where had he been? How had someone not recognized him?

A groan of frustration rumbled through his shivering body. He hadn’t recognized him, Hell none of them had. When Jason died, he was only an inch shorter than Dick currently was and he was a lot skinnier, not to mention his face had been fuller like most children and teens. His voice wasn’t near as deep then either, it was squeaky, much to Jason’s horror.  When he died his face swollen, bruised, and had several burns, so even if he had been looking for Jason he wouldn’t have figured it was JT. Not the nearly blemish and scar-free face of JT Bennet. Just how much good had the Lazarus Pit done him?

Walking down the street, he didn’t notice when the rain stopped, nor did he notice when someone started following him. He was just too deep in thought. He’d moved on to agonizing over the fact that he’d fallen in love with Jason Todd. How? How could he have been like that with a boy he’d always seen as a brother? A little brother at that?

Lord knew Jason wasn’t little anymore, though. He blushed a little as he thought about the younger man’s body and all the ways he’d enjoyed it. His stomach wasn’t turning at the thought anymore, but he far and away preferred it over the more uncomfortable reaction he had to it. Jason Todd was his brother and he should not have ever been turned on by the mere thought of his body and he should not be thinking of all the things they’d done together.

No. He needed to focus on the fact that Jason had become a murderer. A serial killer that was just as deadly as any criminal he took out. Probably more so thanks to the combined training of Batman and the League of Assassins. 

Why? Why had he done this to himself? Could the Assassins really have changed him that much? Could they have overpowered every lesson Bruce had taught the boy? Then again, as much as he hated to admit it, Jason had never really been one to fall in line. Not near the end. Before, yes.

Jason had loved being Robin and being a hero to the kids in Crime Alley. He did what he was told without question when in uniform and he was always happy to be at Bruce’s side. Just like he’d been at one time. Just like Tim currently was. All Robins started off as obedient, faithful, and all around good natured side-kicks. 

However, he’d become disillusioned by Batman and his alter-ego Bruce Wayne, more so than himself and probably much more than Tim would in the future. For Dick, he’d moved on and become Nightwing, but Jason never had the chance. He was killed before he could figure out who he was without The Big Guy calling the shots.

Those last few months, everyone knew Jason was getting out of control. He hit harder than he was supposed to, his batarangs were getting dangerously close to Bruce’s ‘kill-zones’ on his enemies, and then of course there was Phillipe. The man he’d most likely shoved off the balcony. Even during his brief tenure with the Titans, Dick had seen the warning signs of a deadly temper. 

Dick turned the corner, still not sure what the Hell he was supposed to do with this newly discovered information when he felt an arm grab his own. Spinning to kick, he was barely blocked and had just enough to time to recognize the face of Wally West. He backed off immediately and blushed brightly. 

“Wally?” He frowned. 

“Yeah, you called me and I came out here to make sure you were alright.” His best friend frowned as he looked him over. 

His eyes widened as he recalled that he had in fact called his friend. He didn’t say anything when Wally answered, he simply hung up. He thought he could talk about it, but he couldn’t. He still hadn’t even processed what he’d discovered so he left and didn’t bother talking to anyone or bringing his phone with him for that matter. Considering how soaked he was, he reasoned that his decision had been for the best.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Wally sighed. “I knew you calling that early in the morning couldn’t be good. So why are you out here? You look like a drowned rat.”

Dick frowned. “I just needed some time alone and I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I’m sorry I called you. I shouldn’t have. Not yet.” 

“Hey, man, I’m here for you. I always will be.” Wally assured him. “But I think we should at least head into that diner over there. I’m starved and you need to dry off and warm up before you get sick or something.”

 

* * *

 

March 7th

0530hrs

Blue Car Diner

 

Dick’s leg bounced nervously beneath the table as he stared blankly at the cup of coffee before him. His crystal blue eyes felt swollen and puffy and he knew they were just as red. He was trying to calm himself so that he could talk, but every time he worked up the courage, bile would rise in his throat or his eyes would burn and his throat would close off. 

He bit nervously at his bruising lip and was grateful for Wally’s patience. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he had been so sure he’d be able to talk when his friend appeared. He had to talk about it or it would consume him. It was just one of those things that if it wasn’t dealt with immediately it could destroy him from the inside out. 

The waitress had brought out their coffee, hot chocolate and breakfast orders, (both of which were for Wally since he needed the food after the long run) and had left them alone. He tried to keep it together but once he was sure they weren’t going to be interrupted, his body reacted and he just started crying. 

After what felt like an eternity, Dick had settled down. “Hey um, why didn’t you talk to Roy?” Wally finally asked as he moved on to the breakfast his friend had ordered. “I mean, I’m totally cool being down here, just like it’s cool that you called. I just don’t get why you wouldn’t have gone to him first when he’s just down the hall from you.” 

That was a good start, Dick decided. The question helped him figure out where to begin with all the madness that he was about to explain. He released his lower lip and looked his friend in the eyes. “Roy was hurt enough by what he and I spoke about earlier, I just didn’t want to make things harder on him.”

“Is this about JT?” Wally frowned.

“Yes and no.” Dick snickered. “I umm, I just found out that uh, JT, I mean.” He paused and cleared his throat as he forced himself to stop looking down. Once more he held his friend’s gaze and decided to just spit it out. “Jason Todd’s alive.”

At first, Wally didn’t react. He stared blankly as if waiting for his best friend to change his mind or shout “Gotcha!” but when that didn’t happen, Dick saw the alteration. At first it was confusion that quickly turned to disbelief on his face. He paled a bit but then returned to the same confusion.

“How? I don’t understand, Dick.”

Shaking his head, Dick felt two more tears run down his cheeks. “I don’t either, Wally. I literally just discovered this twenty minutes before I called you.”

“How do you know it’s him? How is that possible?” Wally demanded, though not of his friend, just in general. 

Dick ran his fingers through the thick curly mop of hair that was still soaking wet from his little adventure around Gotham. He shrugged his shoulders and laughed at the cruelty of it all. “Came to me in a dream, but apparently, Alfred and Tim have known about it, too.”

“Wait, I’m confused.” Wally frowned somewhat irritably. “What does this have to do with JT and why would Alfred and Tim keep this from anyone and, seriously, Dick this isn’t funny.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Dick snapped. “My boyfriend turned out to be a serial killer, Wally.” He looked around and then leaned in close and whispered. “JT is The Red Hood.”

“What?” Wally shouted but Dick was ready and grabbed the speedster and kept him low. “When did you find this out?”

“Doesn’t matter, it was like a few days ago, but then I find out that The Red Hood is Jason Todd!” Dick added in another frantic whisper.

It was obvious that Wally wasn’t buying it. Not only did he look angry, but the confusion persisted as well. If Dick couldn’t convince Wally, then what hope did he have of convincing Bruce? He leaned back into the booth he was sitting in and looked up at the ceiling with an exasperated smile. His best friend didn’t believe him or maybe he couldn’t. Either way, he was beginning to wonder if he _had_ lost his mind. Maybe he wasn’t as sure as he thought, maybe Alfred and Tim didn’t know.

“Dick, are you okay?” Wally frowned, his eyes filled with concern and maybe a touch of fear. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“I’m not insane, Wally! This isn’t sleep deprivation, alright?” He shouted and then blushed when a few other patrons looked over at him. He ducked his head and started gnawing at his bottom lip again. “It’s him, Wally, I swear it’s him. I don’t have the evidence at my fingertips but I dare you to come back with me and we’ll confront Alfred and Timothy. They can show you what they’ve compiled.”

“But if that’s all true?” Wally’s eyes lit up as understanding overwhelmed him. “You’ve been dating him for nearly six months, you fell for him and he’s not just a killer he’s…

“Yeah. My brother.” Dick frowned. “There’s so much to this I’m confused about and I don’t know how to handle it. It was hard enough when he was just JT Bennet.”

“What a colossal prick! He had to have known it was you.” Wally glared and angrily muttered in a quiet tone. “He had to! He set you all up and he even…Oh my Gosh the name!”

“Tell me about it. One major slap in the face for the moment we all figured it out.” Dick agreed sadly.

Wally stared down at his food, his appetite apparently lost. “Dick, who’s gonna tell Bruce?”

“We’re supposed to bring Bruce home from the hospital today.” He explained. “Actually, we’re supposed to do that in a few hours and I don’t know if I can even face Alfred and Tim. I feel like I can’t face any of them, Wally. What I did?”

Once more the redhead’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What exactly did you do, Dick?” Before he could respond, Wally held his hand up. “I get it, family is who you pick and you picked Todd to be your brother a long time ago, but face the facts, Grayson. He isn’t your brother. Period. There are no biological ties between you. No shared DNA. Nothing. Natta.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You also didn’t know he was a serial killer. Just like you didn’t know he was the one who hurt Roy, just like you didn’t know he was lying to you.” Wally explained softly. “Yeah it’s a little…Icky, but it’s not unnatural and it’s not anything to beat yourself up over. Todd has always crushed on you, Man.” 

“What?” Dick frowned, starting to feel a little better before the last statement. “He did not. He looked up to me.” 

“No, he didn’t.” Wally laughed. “Why do you think he and Roy always clashed so hard. They were competing, Dude.”

“You’re making that up.” Dick denied, though as he thought about it, he always wondered why those two didn’t get on.

“Oh sweet, naïve, Dick. For being the fast and loose playboy that you are, you still don’t see how people look at you, do you?” Wally shook his head. “We all knew about it. Jason crushed on you bad and while Roy was never certain how he felt when it came to guys, he competed with Jason just in case his hormones led him in that direction. Jason hated being called your brother because he always knew he never saw you that way.”

“I just always assumed it was because he was being childish and trying to be macho.” He admitted as he started to look at things through Wally’s perspective. A lot more of Jason’s behavior started to make sense. Especially his constant hatred of anyone he was dating. He always knew the boy was jealous, but he assumed it was for an entirely different and innocent reason.

“Either way, like I said. You did nothing wrong, my friend. You couldn’t have known. Who would have? Even Bruce hasn’t figured it out.”

“Yeah well, Bruce has a hell of an excuse.” Dick scoffed. “Between the tumor, the meds he was taking prior to the surgery and the everyday stresses of a double life, we can’t expect The Big Guy to be on his “A” game.”

“Still, I hate to be the one that tells Bruce that Jason Todd is not only alive and well, but turned into a supervillain.” Wally wasn’t smiling as he spoke, a sign to Dick that the red head truly understood how hard this was going to be one everyone.

“I guess I just want to know why the Hell Tim and Alfred kept it to themselves.” Dick frowned, “especially if they discovered this while JT and I were still dating.”

“Only one way to find out.” Wally shrugged.

 

* * *

 

0800hrs

Bruce Wayne’s Hospital Room

 

When the door opened, Bruce could hear it. When the steps fell near silent, he was still able to track it. His thinking was crystal clear and even better, it was as rapid as it had been before. The haze of pain, misery, dizziness, and confusion had mercifully dissipated. Drugs, tumor, or even the medicines to keep the pain at bay were finally out of his system. It was amazing to recognize how much had been wrong with his mind now that he was okay again. 

The movements stopped beside his bed and Bruce deigned to open his eyes. He knew who it was. He could chalk it up to excellent instincts and intuition, which definitely helped, but really it had been the anger in those steps. It had been the type of shoe, which was really more a of tactical boot that gave him away. Those clues combined with the almost imperceptible limp of a man who’d been stabbed in his side, told him who had entered his room. He pushed back the anger that stifled him as he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at JT Bennet.

“My boyfriend’s picking up his car from the parking lot, so we’ll need to make this brief.” JT growled, his angry teal eyes focused intently upon him. “Do not fuck with me, Bruce. I know you’ll be back out on the streets much faster than you should be and I know you’re going to be on The Red Hood like white on rice. However, if you come near JT Bennet or anyone I’m connected with, then every fucking secret you and your super friends have will be revealed.”

That fogless mind of his worked quickly, snapping phrases and expressions together within the span of the minute it took JT to speak. His mind attached itself to the thoughts he’d had just before the medicine had pulled him under the veil of numbness and eventually oblivion. He remembered following the path of The Joker, knowing that it was leading him to the answer he’d been seeking out.

JT’s strained sanity, his familiar movements and even at times his tone. This boy was connected to the Joker somehow, and he was connected to all of them. He thought back on the few times they’d been up against one another or the fights he’d had with Tim and Dick and his stomach dropped as he finally saw what Tim had so desperately tried to convince him of.

“I trained you.” Bruce frowned. “But, how? Who are you?”

Those angry eyes widened in shock momentarily before quickly returning to a deep set glare. “Fuck off, Bruce.”

_They had been arguing for what felt like hours but was in fact a matter of minutes. He’d always had that ability; to make time stop while screaming the cruelest, most hateful things he could think up. Bruce thought his fights had been difficult with Dick when he rebelled? He almost laughed at the thought. Dick had been a pleasant walk in the park compared to Jason._

_“I’m not having this argument with you again! We had a deal. No smoking or no patrols. You made a choice, now suffer the consequences.” Bruce shouted._

_“You can’t patrol without me!” Jason shouted back._

_“You have that reversed, Son. You’re grounded and that’s the end of the discussion.”_

_“Bull shit! I know what this is really about! You can’t fool me. Your precious Golden Boy is back in town and needs your help, so you’re punishing me for something you already knew I was doing to keep me out of your hair!” Jason insisted. “As soon as Grayson’s out of town again, you’ll ignore the smoking and the drinking all over again!”_

_“The drinking?” Bruce glared._

_Those teal eyes widened in surprise at his own slip up but then immediately returned to a harsh glare as he crossed his arms petulantly. “Fuck off, Bruce.”_

His breath hitched and he felt like the entire world had just crushed him under its massive weight. He stared up at the young man and shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

JT smirked with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest. “Like I said, you’ll be back to your old self in no time. It’ll be fun fighting you on even footing. Might even give me a real run for my money.” He was already walking toward the door to leave.

“Jason.” He couldn’t help the emotion placed in that one word; the sadness, the pain, the regret, the vulnerability? JT shuddered at the sound and for a moment, Bruce was sure he’d turn around and acknowledge him. He didn’t. Instead he straightened his back as best he could with the injury and walked out of the room.

“Jason.” He whispered to himself and felt his eyes burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the most part, everyone now knows the truth. I never thought we’d make it to this point! It might have seemed abrupt for Bruce, but honestly, the beautiful piece I’d written and lost to the virus just happened to be the one that Bruce discovered the truth in. It was impossible to re-write though I did try and that’s why this took so long to get out. Finally my roommate told me to just write something new because the magic I had the first time just wasn’t returning. 
> 
> Action will return! Dick and Jason will have confrontation very soon, if not in the very next chapter and Batman….well. He’s definitely not going to be easy to keep at the mansion, that’s for sure! I really hope you all like this chapter. Sorry again for the wait.


	33. Pride and Prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience everyone! I hope you are all still with me and still enjoying this. There’s so much more that I am so excited to write about! Very wordy and I’m sorry for any typos or grammar errors. Please inform me of the glaring ones. God, I hope you all like this chapter, lol.

Chapter 33

 

March7th

 

Jason’s teeth gritted tightly as he forced himself to calmly walk down the hallway and to the elevator. His heart was racing, his stomach was turning and his head was starting to throb. He wanted to run from Bruce the moment he’d said his name, he’d wanted to turn around and confirm the truth to his former mentor, but thankfully, he’d been smart enough to know he needed to get the Hell out.

He waited impatiently for the elevator to deliver him to the lobby. Bullock would be there, waiting at the patient loading and unloading zone to get him away from Bruce Wayne. Jason laughed internally at his cowardice. Batman he could face, Batman he could fight, but Bruce Wayne? That was a whole different can of worms that he hadn’t expected to deal with right away.

 _That just shows how fucking stupid you are._ He mocked himself. And he was right. Who the fuck underestimated Bruce Wayne? He fucking knew better than that shit. He wasn’t some flunky of Two-Face’s or some pathetic crime boss with no clue what he was doing. He was Jason fucking Todd. He was The Red Hood and he _knew_ him and the number one thing he’d always known about the man or his unmasked alter ego was that you never, _ever_ underestimated him.

He climbed into an old beat up Ford with Harvey and buckled himself into the front passenger seat. He immediately looked out the window and took a few deep, calming breaths. He couldn’t flip out, he couldn’t get pissed off and he damned sure couldn’t let Harvey know something was up. The man who just pester the shit out of him until he either told him the truth or lied. Neither option appealed to him.

“So, I’ll clean up the spare bedroom and you can move whatever shit you need to into that room.” Harvey started. “I expect you to pay half on all the bills until we figure out your next move. If you eat as much as you did in the hospital you’ll need to do your own shopping cause I ain’t got time for that shit. I barely get time to shop for myself.”

Jason felt nothing but relief as he listened to Harvey’s ground rules. “Smoking on the balcony only, Bennet. I know we both smoke, but I don’t want my walls turning yellow.”

“Got it.” Jason agreed with a smirk. Letting himself be distracted by the excitement and fear of having a roommate was just what he needed. Let him focus on the Batclan when he was in costume. That had been the whole point in blackmailing them, right? To make sure that he could be JT Bennet and not worry about being attacked from both sides? “How do you feel about alcohol?”

“What do I look like, your mother?” Harvey rolled his eyes.

“You never know.” Jason shrugged.

“You don’t have any substance abuse issues do you?” Harvey frowned. “Being a cop and all, that’s really not something I tolerate.”

“Being the son of a junkie who OD’d makes it something I don’t really tolerate, either.” It came out far more bitterly than he’d meant. “Sorry. I meant to say that it won’t be problem. I dabbled as a kid and nearly died, so I’m good.”

Harvey’s tired blue eyes focused on him briefly with a touch of concern that soothed the neglected child in Jason. He was still more comfortable with the man’s eyes on the road though, so it didn’t bother him at all when the man finally averted his gaze and started talking about his hard wood floors and how he’d better make sure his shoes were always off when inside.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive or for Jason to settle in on the man’s overstuffed leather couch. The place was fairly neat but that appeared to be from a lack of Harvey’s presence. Everything was dusty and there was stale smell that he hadn’t caught the night he’d busted into the place. In the kitchen, the only signs of life were a few empty bags and food containers from take-out.

“You got a problem with my housekeeping you can fucking do it.” Harvey smirked when he caught him staring at the kitchen in disgust. There was only a half wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. “Want a beer, Kid?”

“It’s eight in the fucking morning, Harv.” Jason rolled his eyes.

“You aren’t my mother, JT.”.

“Suit yourself, but I’ll probably head down in a bit to get some orange juice and milk.” Jason shrugged. “Maybe a few other things to. You have any allergies or anything I should be aware of?”

“Nope. Guess it is a little early for beer.” Harvey muttered the second part and Jason nearly missed it. “Well, how about a Coke?”

“Sure.” Jason answered and laughed at the idea of drinking pop in the morning. It was almost as sad as drinking alcohol in the early morning hours. Well, almost. Then again, it wasn’t like he never did either in the past. Hell, just a few days ago he’d gone straight for whiskey.

He heard the fridge open and then a few seconds later, _smelled_ the fridge open. “Jesus, Harv!” He sneered. “You trying to grow something in there?”

“Shut up.” Harvey rolled his eyes as he came around with a couple Cokes in glass bottles and took a seat on the couch beside him. “Like I said-

“Oh trust me, you’re definitely gonna benefit from my being here.” Jason snickered. “First fucking thing I’m doing is cleaning out your fridge.”

“Just leave the beer out of it.” Harvey grinned as he grabbed a remote and turned the television on. “So, what’s your plan, other than the grocery shopping? I mean with me being suspended and you being injured?”

“Gotta get out on the streets tonight. Can’t make it obvious that every time JT Bennet gets hurt, The Red Hood disappears.” He answered before twisting the metal cap off the bottle. “Bad enough I couldn’t get out while I was actually in the hospital.”

“Can’t you use another decoy like you did before?” Harvey asked.

“Nope. That was a one-time only kind of deal.” Jason damned sure wasn’t going to get anyone else killed either. The Joker had made it fairly clear that he wasn’t going to tolerate fakes. “Fuck, I gotta get rid of Black Mask. Dude’s trying to have me killed and likely the Waynes since they’re in on that project with me.”

“How hard is that going to be with the injury?” Harvey frowned.

“I’ll just have to be extra careful.” Jason shrugged, but it wasn’t that simple. The prick was smart about how he moved and had a habit of staying well-hidden as of late. Sniping wouldn’t be an option because despite the way it looked, that fucking mask was bullet proof and he knew for a fact the man always wore Kevlar vests. It wasn’t impossible but it wasn’t worth the time he’d have to put into it.

“If you know the guy’s real name, I can get the cops to bring him in.” Harvey tried.

“Not an option.” Jason shook his head. “Cops won’t be able to bring him in without casualties even if you could find him and to be honest, I don’t know who the guy is. I just know I’m gonna fucking kill him. Hopefully tonight.”

“What if you reached out to him as The Red Hood?” The detective suggested. “You know, like you offered to take yourself out for him?”

“Killed too many criminals. None of them are gonna trust me.” Jason sighed. “You know my original plan was to become a crime lord and get myself infiltrated into everything?”

“Oh yeah?” Harvey frowned. “Glad you didn’t go that route, but why didn’t ya?”

“I refuse to become the men I hate.” He admitted.

“But slaughtering criminals is different how?”

Jason smiled a little and took a big drink from his neglected soda. “If there were another way to ensure that little Phil and Lil DeVille wouldn’t wind up the victim of one of these assholes, I’d pursue it. We’ve discussed this already, Harv. They don’t stay in prison, they don’t stay in the asylums and there isn’t a death penalty. No more rug-rats or their parents are dying on my watch.”

Harvey nodded somberly and sighed. “I’d really rather you stay down tonight. Give your body the time it needs to properly heal so that you can get up in this guy’s mask the right way.” The older man looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m serious. You can’t improvise around a wound when you’re taking on a guy like him. Look at what he and his goons did to ya the first time.”

Jason struggled not to blush at the realization that Harvey was getting so worried about him. Somehow, he managed to keep control of himself. He stared down at the floor and admitted, even if it was only to himself, that his fake boyfriend had a point. If he got in a position where he had to fight his way out, he could get really hurt and possibly killed.

 _Seriously? When the fuck has that ever mattered? Don’t be a pussy!_ He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand and tried not to listen to the self-deprication he was inflicting upon himself. _This is why assassins don’t make friends, you Fuck. You get a brand new friend and suddenly you want to slow down and think things through? If you’re gonna be weak, you deserve to get your ass killed._

“JT?” He startled at the sound of Bullock’s voice. “You disappeared on me again.”

“I did?” He feigned ignorance.

“You do that a lot.” Harvey nodded. “I know you don’t want me fucking up your plans and making you soft. I’m not saying to give up, but if you can’t stay down, then just don’t go after him yet. Go after some of the small fries instead. You know, just until you’re better.”

 _Okay, well…Yeah. I mean. That’s a lot more fucking reasonable. Guess if he’s not pushing you to quite altogether it wouldn’t be so bad to hear him out._  He rolled his eyes at himself. Flip-flopping mother fucker. He shook himself out of his odd thoughts. “Okay, so how about this? I’ll stay down on the couch all day until you fall asleep later tonight and then I’ll do what the fuck I want?”

Harvey looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “You’re a real class act, you know that, Bennet.” He got up and threw out his empty bottle. “Do what you want but seeing as it’s not even noon, I figured I’d give you a ride to your offices and you could get some real work done while I keep an eye on you. Then when you’re finished we can go buy whatever groceries you think are necessary.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea, Harv. You’d basically be making it clear to the whole city that you’re acting like a body guard.” He warned.  

“We discussed this already.” Bullock reminded while throwing his own words back in his face. “I’m with you to the end, Kid. Now if you want to lay around all day, I’m good with that, too. If you want to get some shit done, though let’s go while I’m standing.”

With a small laugh, Jason got to his feet. He wouldn’t argue with a distraction. If they sat and watched television all day, not only would he get antsy as fuck, but he’d start thinking about Bruce and he just couldn’t do that. Better to let himself get caught up in the project, or in stalking Black Mask or hunting down Joker; anything but thinking about the fact that Batman knew his second son was back from the dead.

 

* * *

 

 

Wayne Manor

0939hrs

 

He had to admit, he was surprised to see Oliver, Roy and Barbara all three sitting at the breakfast table when he arrived home. He wanted to speak to Tim, Alfred and Dick, but not at the hospital and not in the car. He needed time to absorb what he’d learned and fully expected to have the discussion once they were home.

“What do you mean you thought about joining him?” Barbara glared from her seat as she set down her cup of coffee.

“Barbara, that’s not quite what he meant.” Oliver defended and at once, Bruce had a sneaking suspicion he knew what they were arguing about.

The question he really had was whether or not to pull Barbara from the conversation to bring her in on the one he needed to have. Unfortunately, it seemed as if they were discussing nearly the same thing, or at least the same person. His steely blue eyes settled on Roy who was frowning and looking down at his hands under the table.

“He doesn’t need you to argue for him, Ollie.” She snapped. “Roy?”

Roy started fidgeting and Bruce found that he wanted to know what the boy’s response was. While he would never let Oliver or Roy in on his family arguments, he’d certainly never try to have them in the Queen mansion to begin with. The way he saw it, it was only fair that he get to listen to the discussion as it was under his roof and likely included JT? Jason? He wasn’t comfortable with either name anymore.

“It’s exactly what it sounded like, Babs. I came out here to watch The Hood and determine if I wanted to join him.” He snapped and rubbed his eyes. “Obviously I came to my senses, but briefly, I just thought that maybe his way was the right one.”

While Bruce wasn’t at all surprised, the young woman at the table couldn’t have been more shocked if Roy had slapped her in the face. She blinked once, twice before shaking her head. He could see her struggling to see the truth. Normally, Barbara Gordon didn’t have blinders on. It was why he had used her to help make out the character of several people in the past, but when it came to Roy? She only saw the good in him.

The fact was, Roy’s temper and his vengeful spirit made him a likely sympathizer with The Red Hood. Just like Ollie, Dick and himself, Roy had lost his parents to criminals. He’d seen friends die at the hands of ‘super’ villains and he’d watched tragedies reshape the lives of those that weren’t killed. Being the type of person to hold grudges and lean toward the eye for an eye philosophy, Bruce couldn’t imagine anyone more inclined to joining up with The Red Hood than Roy.

“Was this before or after he shot you?” She demanded.

“It was before!” He growled. “Why else do you think he shot me?”

Bruce’s gaze fell to his own family as silence descended. Dick looked strangely rattled and not at all himself. He was sure the younger man had been crying and appeared exhausted. Alfred seemed prepared for the worst while Tim didn’t seem to understand that a great shift had taken place. If he hadn’t known for a fact that Tim was aware of who JT really was, he’d have thought him as unknowing as Barbara.

“You three continue your conversation. Barbara, when you’re finished here I need you to come down to the cave.” Bruce stated before looking to Oliver. “It’s good to see you again, Oliver.”

“Likewise, Bruce.” The man replied without the least bit of sincerity in his tone.

Knowing his boys and Alfred would follow, Bruce headed down to the Bat Cave. Once he was seated in the large chair in front of the computer, he noted that Dick wasn’t doing well. Was it guilt for having kept this secret from him for so long? Dick had a tendency to really beat himself up when he felt responsible for anything remotely negative.

Alfred didn’t look at all concerned, but that was because he was the master of stoicism. Bruce felt he was a close second, but he knew that in the end, his oldest friend had the edge. Thinking about their friendship caused him to take a sharp and unexpected breath at the realization of such a heavy betrayal.

Timothy’s confusion was gone and replaced with obvious discomfort under Bruce’s gaze. Guilt radiated from his aura as he avoided any eye contact with him, his shoulders rising as if to protect himself. He supposed it had only been a matter of time before Tim joined in the ranks of rebellious Robins, he just hadn’t guessed it would be over such a heavy matter.

“Master Bruce, before you begin. I’d like to make it perfectly clear that I swore Master Drake to secrecy. He had every intention of telling you the truth as soon as he made his discovery, but I prevented him from coming to you.”

“Just how long have you known?” Bruce asked. “How long have either of you known?”

“I believe I discovered Master Todd’s ruse on the 18th of February, Sir. It was just after he’d talked you into getting that tumor removed.” Alfred answered in such a casual tone, one would think he were merely discussing the weather.

It was a smart move on Alfred’s part, Bruce had to give him credit for that. Making him think of Jason in a positive way was likely to keep him calm or at least focused on the boy they knew rather than the serial killer he’d become. He couldn’t deny it’s success as the young man’s blackmailing him into getting the surgery resurfaced in his thoughts. He sighed.

“And you?” He asked Tim, noticing the way Dick’s eyes were narrowing in a very uncharacteristically hateful scowl.

“The day I got kidnapped I’d just run a DNA test on a domino mask that had been left in your hands.” Tim acknowledged in a very soft voice. “So…about a week.”

“You two knew Jason was JT for that long or is it that you knew The Red Hood was Jason for that long?” Dick demanded, sounding as if he were about to cry. Had his oldest ward truly been kept in the dark about all of this as well?

“I knew both, Sir.” Alfred answered.

“At first I only knew The Red Hood was Jason Todd. I didn’t know that he was also JT until you and Bruce told me.” Tim flinched.

“How long have you known, Dick?” Bruce asked with concern.

“I don’t know, let’s see. It’s what? Ten in the morning? I guess I’ve known for a whole six fucking hours!” Dick snapped as his bright blue eyes filled with furious tears. He grabbed the sides of his head and forced out a bitter laugh. “I was…. _with_ him and you guys didn’t say a damned word.”

Bruce felt his head spin at the realization of what Dick must be going through. He was grateful to be seated and took a moment to breathe, something he noticed his oldest ward was doing, too. Jason was alive and yet he still couldn’t focus on that because right now, Dick was having a mental breakdown. Not over Jason living, but over what he no doubt considered to be an incestuous relationship.

He shook the thought from his head. It would do him no good. The past was in the past and there was nothing he could do to prevent Dick from having slept with someone he’d considered family. Allowing his focus to dwell on Dick and his pains helped him to once again avoid thinking over what had happened to Jason or how he was living and breathing after he had been buried.

“Are you speaking with him, Alfred?” Bruce asked.

Surprisingly, Alfred shifted at the question but eventually nodded. “Yes, Master Bruce, I am. He has no intention of quitting but I still hope that we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” Bruce frowned. “You can’t be serious, Alfred.” He shook his head. “That man is going to prison for the rest of his life after what he’s done. He’s not excused, Alfred, I don’t care who he is.”

“So, when should we expect Selena Kyle back in prison?” Tim asked and Bruce’s jaw nearly dropped in surprise at the boy’s candor. “What about Barbara? For that matter when will you be turning yourself into the police?”

“Barbara?” Dick frowned, looking disgusted at the lengths Tim was willing to go to defend the murderous vigilante. “How or why should Barbara be in prison?”

“Because she’s our hacker. We all trespass, we all hack into databases we don’t belong in, we all batter criminals, we break hundreds of traffic laws anytime we get behind the wheel while in costume. We break the law every time we take on a criminal and we always obstruct justice as well as interfere with police investigations.” Tim shrugged. “Bruce said no exceptions, so I’m just clarifying.”

“You cannot be serious.” Dick shook his head. “You’re really taking his side?”

“No. Absolutely not.” Tim denied. “But, Alfred’s right. We have to come to an arrangement of some kind with him. We can’t just lock him up. We’ve had this discussion, remember? Nothing’s changed since then.”

“Maybe not for you.” Dick argued.

“Okay, fine. What would you like to do about Jason, Dick?” Tim asked. “How would you go about arresting and imprisoning a man who is not only supposed to be dead, but knows everything about us and our friends? How do you plan to take on The Red Hood knowing he’s not just your ex, but is supposed to be our brother?”

“Tim that’s enough.” Bruce snapped before Dick could respond.

“But he raises an excellent point, Sir.” Alfred stated. “Nothing has changed with this knowledge. He still has us cornered and Master Dick is just as compromised today as he was yesterday,  perhaps more so.”

“Dick, Tim, I want you to inform Barbara of what’s happened as well as Roy and Oliver. Let them know I’ll be available to talk to them this evening when I return on what our next move will be.” Bruce ordered as he stood up, his decision made. “Alfred if you’ll bring around the car, I’ve a meeting with the head of Bennet Construction.”

“You can’t go talk to him!” Dick shook his head.

“I have to do something!” Bruce shouted. “If I can’t face him under the cowl, then I have no choice but to do so in a suit. I will not sit back and ignore the fact that Jason is alive!”

He knew he shouldn’t have shouted or lost control of himself like that. He grimaced at the look of surprise on Tim’s face and the shock of fear on Dick’s. He knew the oldest just wanted to protect him, but Dick also wasn’t handling the information well and he wasn’t sure he was capable of helping him get through it, not knowing what their relationship had become. It would be too awkward for both of them to try to sort through. Dick needed his friends until he came to grips with that part of his and Jason’s relationship. Only after that was dealt with, could Bruce assist him.

“Be careful.” Tim frowned. “Don’t, don’t let him goad you into doing something stupid. We still don’t know how stable he is.”

The flash of Jason’s face in the hospital caused a small chill to run down his spine. The moment of hysteria combined with fear was far too reminiscent of- He shook it off. Jason was alive and he wanted that to be what soaked into his mind. Jason was alive. He didn’t want to think about The Red Hood, or how it was possible or even how he died. He just wanted to savor the knowledge that Jason was alive.

“Neither of you are to head out for patrols until I have returned. I want Barbara working with me and Alfred tonight as well. We’re going to figure out a plan and if Queen insists on sticking around then he is to assist Harper with his physical therapy only. I do not want him prowling Gotham. Understood?”

“Whatever you say, B.” Dick answered weakly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bennet Construction Site Offices

1123hrs

 

Jason sat in his office doing “real” work. His secretary was just outside the door gathering all the paperwork he needed and setting up interviews to replace his depleted crew. Apparently, Bruce Wayne had not pulled from the project or sent any emergency messages to halt any further cooperation. He had to hire on at least fifty more men and hire a security detail for the site and of course the protection of his employees.

He looked up to see Harvey sitting in a chair in the corner of his office reading the newspaper. That fuck still refused to leave his space. Part of him wanted to be angry and tell the bastard off for babying and coddling him, but that other side secretly reveled in the feeling. The League of Assassins weren’t exactly known for their camaraderie. So, maybe it was kind of nice having a friend in his corner.

“Mr. Bennet?” Both he and Harvey looked at his office phone at the same time. “Mr. Wayne to see you, Sir.”

Oh fuck. He should have known! He should have prepared for and expected this, and yet he hadn’t. That’s why he was pale, that’s why he felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over him. He stalled, incapable of speaking because he had no clue what the fuck to say. Was the man that desperate to get into it with him? He knew the Big Guy would want to talk and he expected him to make a move, but as the Bat, not as Bruce!

“JT?” Harvey frowned, clearly picking up on his anxiety. Good God, was that his heartbeat? Could Bullock hear his heartbeat from over there? “Hey, Kid, you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just moved wrong.” He lied, but Harvey bought it.

“I’ll just sit outside while you have your meeting.”

“Thanks.” Jason nodded. “As soon as he’s out of here, you can come back in.”

“Mr. Bennet?” The secretary called again.

“Yes, go ahead and send him in please.” Jason said after pressing the com button on his phone.

The exchange of persons certainly looked awkward from where Jason was sitting. He didn’t know what Bruce knew or thought he knew about him and Harvey Bullock, but he must have been shocked to see the grizzly, slovenly detective step passed him. Harvey for his part looked as irritable and unimpressed as ever, though his gaze did linger on the man for a moment longer than he normally would have. Maybe it was that protectiveness again.

Bruce entered alone, meaning Alfred was out in the waiting area or in the car. He wondered which because it would determine just how long this meeting was intended to last. It wasn’t easy having the man in his office knowing who he was and he didn’t want him there for very long. His armor, the disguise? It was gone now. He was completely vulnerable to Bruce’s uncanny intuition and keen intelligence. This was not the position he’d ever planned on being in. Not this early in the game, anyhow.

His former mentor cut an intimidating figure in his suit. Even though he was just barely released from the hospital, Jason could sense at once that the man’s mental faculties were operating normally. He wouldn’t be able to bullshit his way through whatever conversation Bruce had planned. And exactly why was he there? What couldn’t wait?

“Jason.” The man said in a near whisper that would have dropped him to his knees if he hadn’t already been seated. How could he have treated him with such distrust as a teenager and then come here and say his name so reverently it almost sounded like a prayer?

Anger burned as he narrowed his teal eyes on the alter ego of Batman. “What do you want, Bruce?” he growled in the most hateful tone he could muster.

“May I take a seat?” Bruce asked, his typical playboy billionaire personality coming out as he smirked.

Feeling naked before a man who was properly guarded and protected, Jason did the only thing he could do. He waved his hand at the empty seat across from him and tried reign his temper back in. It wasn’t easy with Bruce smiling as if this were a normal business meeting that they’d both agreed upon, but then that was the brilliance of Bruce Wayne. The man was the master of control and more importantly, self-control. He also knew how to read people, so he clearly knew he was on the verge of a colossal meltdown.

“Should we talk quietly?” Bruce asked as soon as he was comfortable.

“It’d be for the best.” Jason nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. Damn it! Don’t do that! Now he knows for sure you’re feeling uncomfortable? Fuck. What was it with this man? Damn it, he was Jason fucking Todd. He didn’t need to fear Bruce and he certainly didn’t need to fall apart in front of him.

Again, a sly smile crossed the older man’s face as if he could read his mind and see his angry thoughts. “May I call you Jason or would you rather I stick to JT?”

His heart did something funny at the request, something he wasn’t sure was positive or negative. Either way he was starting to feel sick with anxiety. “You call me whatever the fuck you want, B. I don’t give a shit.”

“It’s a relief to see you haven’t changed much.” Bruce offered a genuine, friendly smile.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The more agitated you are, the more you swear.” He answered without sounding at all like a lecture. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think that Bruce had savored the sound with how happy and calm he appeared to be. “It’s always been that way with you and I’m glad it hasn’t changed.”

“Fuck you.” He muttered as he looked down at his desk. He had to find a way to get back in control. This was his company, it was his office and he wasn’t a fucking teenager! Steer it back to business, just steer it back, Jason. “Are you going to withdraw your support, Mr. Wayne.”

The man’s steel blue eyes hardened briefly before he shook his head and smiled. “We already made a deal, Jason. We don’t do anything to harm your public persona and you reciprocate.”

“Alright, well did you want to discuss those details?”

“Please, Jason.” He chuckled as if they were nothing more than business associates. “We both know that I don’t get involved on that level, that’s between you and Lucius. We also know that I’m not here to discuss business.” Bruce replied.

“Then what do you want?” He scowled.

“What else _could_ I want, Jason?” Bruce asked, that patience cracking just a little at his heightened tone.

“Beats the Hell out of me.” He grumbled. “Why do you think I asked? To hear myself talk?”

“Jason, I want to know what happened. I want to know how long you’ve been alive. I want to know everything.”

“Yeah well, you know how the saying goes. Wish in one hand…” Jason sneered.

“You came here, remember.” Bruce stated firmly, but calmly. “You came to us. You sought Bruce Wayne and Officer Grayson out. You could have lived the rest of your life with us in complete ignorance of your survival, but you didn’t. And don’t tell me that you didn’t want us to find out, because if that were true, JT Bennet would never have gotten close to us. The Red Hood would never have gone out of his way to protect and offer help to the Batclan. He would have made good on his threats to take us out.”

He had to admit he’d thought the same thing himself. He’d been so stupid approaching Dick in that coffee shop and yet he hadn’t been able to resist. Dick Grayson was in uniform and even when he wasn’t looking at people he was so damned happy and smiling! In Gotham! Who did that? He had fooled himself into thinking he could slip in and out of the man’s life and be contented with a one night stand. But like any poor fool who felt more for Grayson than lust, he failed miserably. He’d been drawn in and one night hadn’t been enough. Couldn’t ever be enough.

He never should have written that letter, either, but he’d been so damned jealous over Slade’s recent bragging at the time. The older man rubbed him the wrong way, his lust for Dick, his ever worse parenting style than Bruce’s? The guy was a prick, a good business partner when necessary, but a completely tool. He’d only used the letter to upset Dick, to see just how powerful Slade and Dick’s clandestine bond was; could he have made him act out of character?  

“Why’d you save me that night, Jason? Why’d you protect me from my own stubbornness and the darkness of Gotham’s nightlife? You could have left me for dead. Is it because you have something else planned, is this some kind of revenge stunt?”

“Revenge? You saying you and the clown worked together on my demise?” Jason’s eyes widened at his own implication before narrowing as he barely reigned in a dark fury that sharply rose within. _Take control, Jason, while he’s just as shocked by your comment._ “Alright, that’s enough of that. Mr. Wayne, unless you have business to conduct, I am afraid I need you to leave. I have a lot of work to do and-

“No. I don’t want to talk to JT Bennet, or whoever you think you are now, I want to talk to Jason. I want to talk to my _son_.”

He scoffed with a sneer, “Pfft, your son is dea- Wait a second.” Jason’s eyes narrowed as he realized what Bruce had said. What he’d really said to him. “ _Now_ I’m your son?” Jason growled through gritted teeth trying to hide how much he’d wanted and needed to hear those words from Bruce. “Back when you didn’t trust me I was barely your ward but _now_ I’m your son?”

“That’s not true, Jason and you know it.” Bruce argued. “You were never just a ward to me!”

“You never fucking trusted me! You treated me like a wild animal that could turn on you at any damned moment! You felt bad for me, but you could never connect to me. I was just some orphan off the streets that could never be anything more than a criminal!” Jason snarled, though he kept his volume down for the sake of his thin walls.

Bruce’s brow twitched and the man wanted to defend himself, but he didn’t. Why? Why wasn’t he defending himself?

“That’s always been the case.” He whisper-yelled, trying to provoke him like used to. “Look at the replacement. High society little fuck that he is, but he’s the apple of your eye, right? And Dick? Maybe he wasn’t some rich little pansy like Timmy, but he had a good upbringing, he had morals and parents that loved him and looked after him. He wasn’t a thief or a whore. He was your fucking Golden Boy! Your Sunshine!”

“Jason please, stop!” Bruce shook his head as he reached forward, causing Jason to slide back in alarm and confusion. He wasn’t ok with that, wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t sure he ever would be. “I admit that I had some difficulties in the beginning. I don’t deny it, Jason. I could have handled things differently. Should have in fact. You needed so much more than I gave. There is no defense or excuse for my actions or in your case, my inaction.”

Of course, there was a defense! Jason had been a complete and total shit-head. He wasn’t some soft and sweet mourning child, not like Dick had been when he came along. Jason was a teen when he came around. Or at least a pre-teen. He wasn’t sweet or kind; he was snappy, mean, and desperate to survive one more day. He could be volatile and cruel, things he used to keep people at a distance from him because he was just so fucking scared of everything being pulled out from under him; like one of those magic tricks where a tablecloth is pulled from beneath a table full of dishes, only they all crash and fall to the floor

Why the Hell wasn’t Bruce fighting back? Why wasn’t he properly defending himself? There were plenty of things Bruce did wrong and he wanted and deserved an explanation but at the same time he wanted Bruce to acknowledge ALL of Jason, not just his regrets, not just his wishes for what he’d done. He had to acknowledge _and_ accept that darkness in him, too. For fuck’s sake, there had been a time when he broke every rule he could just to test the boundaries. That couldn’t have been easy on him or Alfred. He fought, argued with, and challenged B on nearly every decision he made near the end.

Had that brain tumor done more damage than they all expected? Had B gone soft? His fists tightened out of the old man’s sight as he stared at him in shock. Didn’t he get it?

“You can’t romanticize the dead, especially when they’re no longer dead, Bruce.” Jason sighed as he looked carefully at the man’s hard blue eyes and tightened lips. His brows were set in heavy concentration.

“Jason, I don’t care about any of that. I just want to know what happened? What happened to you? How are you even here?” Bruce’s voice didn’t shake, but Jason imagined it came close.

He’d never seen the Big Guy this upset, not when it came to him. He’d only ever seen him show frustration and anger at his antics. Once or twice he’d even seen disappointment, but never fear. Never sadness or-

 _Well now, that’s not exactly true is it, Jason? You saw his face_ that _day._ His eyes blurred from the startled, angry tears that gathered against his will. He couldn’t relive it, he couldn’t let himself think about that day or the following days when he finally _returned._ He sucked in a breath harder than he’d meant to and immediately wished he hadn’t as he tried to calm himself down.

Bruce was staring at him with sincere concern, just like he had when he’d come into the hospital after Black Mask got a hold of “JT Bennet” only more-so. Because Bruce wasn’t staring at some kid he felt bad for; no, this time he knew he was staring at his, at his _son._

Jason shook off the thought and hid the wiping of his tears away with a frustrated gesture that had him dragging his middle and ring finger across his right eye, and this thumb across the left eye so that all three fingers met to pinch the bridge of his nose.  He doubted Bruce fell for it, but it was a worth a try.

“No.” Jason answered with what he hoped was a firm, calm tone. “I don’t owe you that. I don’t owe any of you that, B. Let’s just stick with our arrangement.”

“You need _help_ , Jason. You can’t keep this up. You have no idea the damage it’s doing to your psyche and your soul.” He responded.

 Jason chuckled. “My soul? Since when do you believe in souls? Since when do you believe in anything remotely divine?” He shook his head, but was actually grateful for the opportunity to steer the subject away from a topic he had no intention of ever discussing, no matter what he’d promised Alfred. “You can’t fool me, Bruce. You’re the same cynical, brooding skeptic that you’ve always been. Your folks were religious; not you.”

“I won’t insult either of our intelligence by arguing most of what you’ve said of me, but I will remind you that you don’t know me any better than I knew you, Jason.” Bruce stated with a far more familiar sigh. And there was a hidden message here, wasn’t there? He was speaking the opposite of how he felt, because Bruce Wayne did know him. They knew each other well, they just didn’t understand each other. It’s why they rarely got along. “I don’t think either of us truly understood the other, and I’m beginning to see that we didn’t try to, either.”

“Oh please, your defects are clear as day, Bruce.” Jason smirked as he leaned back in his chair, his mood lightening the further they moved away from the discomfort of his return and the closer they returned to their old stand-by. Arguing and debating, even if neither believed a thing they were saying. “You hate crime and anyone who crosses the lines of your moral boundaries, it’s why you couldn’t get close to me. I was already a criminal. I was just a pet project that failed because of your propensity to hate so easily.”

For a few brief moments Bruce fell silent and Jason was disappointed at how easily the old man had given up. There was no more fight in him. Then again, perhaps his stay at the hospital was too recent. Maybe he needed a little more time. He was just about to dismiss him, something he’d always wanted to do, when he found Bruce’s steely blue eyes centered on him with a triumphant smirk. “And your greatest defect is to willfully misunderstand the defects of others.”

Jason’s eyes widened in unrestrained surprise at Bruce’s response. He felt his cheeks flush at being beat at a game he only played with Alfred and even, it was more often that he played it alone. He glared when his former mentor and adopted father had the nerve to smile at him. Again! He wanted to punch it off his face so badly.

“You were right Jason; in my grief, I did romanticize memories of you while demonizing myself. I tortured myself with the guilt I still feel I deserve for my less than favorable parenting style.” He stood and Jason knew it was done not only for effect, but to remind him of the pecking order as he found himself forced to look up at him. “However, as bad as things were between us, I think you forget how good they were, too. I think you purposely forget how often I was really there, because it steals away your greatest strength.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” Jason scoffed.

“Rage.” Bruce shrugged. “And before you go thinking that my catching on to your Pride and Prejudice quote was simply because I know the book, think again.

“I only read Pride and Prejudice for the second time in my life when Alfred informed me you’d read it three times during your first six months with us.”

“So?” Jason shrugged defensively as he found himself crossing his arms. Fuck!

“Do you know why I think you loved that book so much?” Bruce asked.

“I’d love for you to fucking enlighten me.” He sneered, because most of the time he didn’t know why he loved it so much. He was smart, but he wasn’t self-aware enough to understand what the Hell had spoken to him in a damned romance novel. He only knew it had always made him feel better, feel hopeful and less depressed.

“It spoke to your own insecurities and your own hopes about becoming part of a world you didn’t feel you belonged to. Forgetting the romance aspect of the story, it’s about two different classes of people finding out that all their prejudices and pre-conceived notions about the other were entirely false or at the very least unfairly exaggerated for their purposes of their own pride.

“Elizabeth Bennet, while very independent and intelligent, isn’t self aware enough to realize she’s just as big a snob and can be as poor a judge of character as the people she laughs at. While Darcy on the other hand, feels that because of all the good he does, his behavior and feelings towards others should mean nothing to anyone else. If he doesn’t care, why should they? He’s a good man, so to Hell with anyone who doesn’t meet his strict criteria of worthiness.

“Sound familiar?” Bruce smiled.

Jason’s eyes fell as a small shiver ran down his back. This whole situation served him right for thinking that he could outsmart The World’s Greatest Detective. He sighed and shook his head because he knew said Detective couldn’t be here much longer. Yes, he’d done this to himself. He’d thrown himself right into their faces and dared them to discover all of his secrets. “I think it’s time, Bruce. We can’t fight each other here and I’m not talking about this any further.”

The man looked him over and he knew he had presented a weakness to the Bat. Would he take advantage or would their tentative truce keep the man from pressing him further? Bruce started to walk away and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief, until of course the fucker turned around!

“You need help, Jason. Psychiatric help.” Bruce stated firmly. “We will take you down and we will get you the help you need, whether you like it or not.”

Teal blue eyes scowled as his upper lip curled viciously. “Not a fucking chance, Old Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this is late, real life attacked with a change of jobs and training and the free time I thought I had, I just didn’t. Thank you for all of you who are still reading and supporting this story. We’re about to get to more action! Just stick around, I promise it’s coming.
> 
> I know I'm kind of taking the Pride and Prejudice thing and running with it, since I don't know that canonically it's *favorite* book, but I do know he has been seen reading the book at least once in the comics and that was enough for me to just go for it. I really do think Bruce was right about what drew someone like Jason to the book. The kid is very bright, and while we all know the cliched, angry brute; i think the fact that Jason is just as sensitive and emotional as Dick is often forgotten. 
> 
> Anyhow, please don't hate me if you didn't like the chapter.


	34. Scuffed Hardwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for how long this took me to get out. Honestly, I’ve been sitting on this chapter and re-writing it again and again since my computer troubles were solved (albeit temporarily). It took so long I panicked and became anxious. I’d read this chapter and think it doesn’t live up to the rest of the story or it wasn’t good enough for you guys. It became this huge anxiety issue and then finally I thought I couldn’t let that defeat me. So, I am sorry if this chapter doesn’t have the right feel to it, but I gotta get back into writing mode and this is the best I can do at the moment. Forgive me if it’s not up to par, but as I keep writing, I promise it’ll get better again.

Chapter 34 

 

Still March 7th

Wayne Manor 

During Jason and Bruce’s Meeting

 

           

            No one moved, no one spoke. Oliver and Roy looked pale, Barbara appeared shocked but of the three, she was the calmest. Tim had been the one to explain because his brother was just too out of it to even make an attempt at it. Honestly, Tim was glad it had worked out that way because he knew Dick just wouldn’t have been able to explain things clearly and concisely enough. He’d get stuck on his own pain and possibly upset the others needlessly.

            “So, you’re saying that the guy who did this to me, the guy who…” Roy’s voice failed him as he covered his face with his hands and tried to wipe away tears stealthily. “Jason Todd, the second Robin, did this to me?”

            Tim nodded. “Yes.”

            “We’ll get him, Roy.” Barbara promised quietly. “No way Bruce lets him continue his reign of terror.”

            “ _Lets_ him?” Roy sneered. “You think he’s been _letting_ Jason do what he wants up until now? Get a grip, Barbara! We haven’t been able to stop him and I doubt that’s all going to change just because we happen to know the fucker under the hood!”

            “Roy,” Oliver frowned as he placed a hand on his ward’s shoulder. “You have to calm down. Getting angry isn’t going to help anything. Besides, Bruce is going to get back to normal again. The only reason Jason’s reign of terror lasted this long is likely because of his medical condition, but that’s gone now.”

            “You guys don’t get it!” Roy shouted. “Even if Bruce were back to one hundred percent, even if he didn’t have physical therapy to contend with, it doesn’t fix everything! Knowing Jason is the one causing all of this Hell is going to make an already tricky situation absolutely impossible!”    

            “That’s not true.” Tim argued. He frowned when he saw Dick just sitting quietly and staring at the floor, Roy’s words making the former feel worse. “If anything, it’s going to make it easier.”

            “How do you figure?” Roy demanded.

            “Because we now know he’s not going to kill any of us.” He responded. The red head’s face soon matched his hair and he noted that Oliver was exerting a little force to keep the injured man from rising out of his chair and coming after him. “I get that you were damaged by him, possibly irreparably, but looking at all of our encounters, he doesn’t come after us and now that we know your history? It makes perfect sense why he attacked you, why he called you the outsider.”

            “Are you saying I deserved this?” Roy roared, though thankfully for his own sake, Ollie had yet to release him.

            “No!” Tim shook his head. “If you’d calm down and listen to me, you’d agree with me!”

            “I have to admit, I’m not really understanding this either, Tim.” Oliver sighed as he looked to Barbara and then to Dick.

            “Look, when we didn’t know who this guy was, we didn’t know _how_ to deal with him. Knowing he’s Jason, knowing he’s pretending to be a guy named JT, and knowing that he’s involved with the League of Assassins actually helps us in figuring out how to control and someday soon, capture him.”

            “Why don’t you just ask Wally to nab him.” Roy asked as he looked to Dick. “Or you Tim, you could ask Conner?”

            “Jason was trained by Bruce.” Dick shook his head, finally speaking up. “I guarantee you that he has a bit of kryptonite on him somewhere.” Tim watched as the older boy tilted his head in contemplation before speaking up again. “I suppose with Wally in town, he might be up to helping us capture him.”

            “Bruce would never allow it.” Oliver scoffed. “You and I shouldn’t even be here in his eyes, Roy. He finds out that people outside of his family are dealing with Jason, coming into his city to deal with a vigilante running amuck? He’d probably help Jason sabotage Wally’s efforts.”

            “I have to admit that while I don’t believe that Bruce would go that far, I do know he’d be unbearably difficult.” Barbara agreed. “Besides, even if Wally or Conner were to help, it doesn’t protect our identities. As Dick pointed out, he was trained the same way we were. He’ll have ways of releasing the information if he’s captured.”

            “Fuck you guys and Bruce.” Roy sneered. “The fact that he’s blackmailing you with the rest of the JL’s identities is all the more reason to bring in outside help. They have a right to know!”

            “Jason sees anyone else in this city that doesn’t belong and the cats outta the bag, guaranteed.” Tim sighed with frustration. “Once that information is out there, we’re all screwed. Not to mention, we’ll just be playing right into his hands. There’s a better way, guys. I’m telling you.”

            “Like what?” Roy demanded.

            “Like the Joker.” Dick answered.

            Tim nodded with relief, grateful someone had finally started to think about the entire situation rather than just the small pieces. Still, the uncomfortable silence that Dick’s answer brought forth was becoming heavy. “Do you remember the hospital room, when he came in and threatened us?”

            “He was in control until you said something to him.” Barbara nodded. “Until you compared him to the Joker. Then it’s like he, he just became unhinged.”

            “What happened the other night, Timmy?” Dick asked, starting to sound just a touch like his old self again. “The night with you, Joker and The Hood?”

            He took a deep breath and looked each of them over, wanting to make sure that they were ready to hear what he had to say. Roy still looked infuriated, but he was simmering silently at least. Barbara again, was the calmest followed by Oliver and Dick? Well, Dick still looked ready to vomit at a moment’s notice, but he was also starting to look angry, himself.

            “That night I went after The Hood to warn him that the Joker had escaped. After everything that had happened at the hospital, I just knew that the Joker confronting him unexpectedly could throw him off his game, especially after everything that had happened between him and Dick and his own identity being revealed.

            “While we were talking, I tried to warn him about the Joker and he told me that the monster had already sent him a message, that he knew Joker was on the loose. I asked which identity Joker was aware of, which one he sent the message to. He freaked out and I told him that if he wasn’t careful the Joker could kill him and he screamed loudly that he already had.” Tim explained. “The Joker knows that JT Bennet is the former Robin, I don’t know how he knows, but he does. No way Jason would have screamed that at me if he was worried Joker would hear him.”

            Barbara tilted her head. “It’s a good theory to work with, but Jason’s erratic behavior doesn’t confirm the Joker’s knowledge. It’s possible he was just assuming and-

            “No.” Dick shook his head as he interrupted Barbara, his blue eyes glossy and blood shot from the day’s events. “No, the Joker _knows_ for a fact that he’s hunting the Robin he believed himself to have killed.”

            “How do you know?” Roy asked and Tim noted that his tone had evened out.

            “Because of the crow bar.” Dick’s brows furrowed. “Joker was hitting him repeatedly with a crow bar, _again_.” Tim’s eyes widened in horror while Barbara gasped softly. “The Hood was lying perfectly still, perhaps too still. Like he might have been…shocked or terrified.”

            “That could just be a coincidence.” Oliver offered.

            “It could have been, had Joker not mentioned something about a ‘reunion’.” The acrobat responded. “After that, Joker called The Hood his protégé and Jason lost his mind and attacked without any thought, without any plan and that’s when he got stabbed. He was in a blind fury.”

            “Sadly,” Tim stared at the others. “Sadly, that’s how we’ll beat him. Anytime the Joker’s involved, he’s too angry, he’s too emotional in general. I think it’s why he tried to plan his attacks earlier on. He was trying to keep his emotions from getting the best of him.”

            To his surprise, Roy was the one who agreed. “You’re right. You’re so right.” He nodded. “That’s exactly what happened to him with The Butcher. There was a plan, you could tell there was. He lost control of his temper, lost control of his rage and he killed him faster than he wanted to. I think Tim’s on to something, because we know he plans most of his attacks ahead of time. It’s why he always had the signs ready, to make cops think he was a serial killer type with a specific ritual.”

            “He _is_ serial killer with rituals.” Barbara disagreed with a frown. “I don’t know what to think about him being Jason, but he’s not the same man he was.”  
            “Jason never _was_ a man.” Oliver reminded them all. “He died at fifteen. This man you’re all dealing with is not and never will be that _boy_ again. I agree with Roy and Tim that there are aspects that are very similar, and that you could use your previous knowledge of who he once was to your advantage, but do not make the mistake of thinking he’s still _your_ former teammate.

“He’s not. He’s not only gone through something that was guaranteed to change him, but then he died. He was dead. We all know that was his body buried and I don’t know how he’s still here, I don’t know how his body is not only healed but hasn’t rotted beyond recognition. Regardless, the League of Assassins trained him, they brought him back to life, they rebuilt him in their image. He is not your Jason Todd, he’s maybe not Jason Todd at all anymore.”

Tim wanted to argue; he wanted to find fault in Oliver’s words, but he couldn’t. Not because Oliver was necessarily right, but more because he wasn’t exactly wrong. Tim still believed that Jason was over all the same man he would have become with or without being killed by the Joker. But, he could also see that expecting Jason to do as he would have as a young teen would be just as dangerous.

Dick shivered and then abruptly left. He wondered when his brother would retreat. The conversation was still too much and Tim knew that Wally was around here somewhere by Dick’s own admission. He’d also been notified of the speedster’s presence in the house before they’d even brought Bruce home thanks to his security system. He just wondered why the speedster wasn’t present.

Had they planned to do what Roy had suggested and use Wally’s speed as a surprise attack against Jason? Dick had seemed for it briefly but then he had backed off after several issues with such a plan were pointed out. Plus, Oliver was right. Bruce would not tolerate anyone outside of his own clan dealing with Jason.

“We know that the League of Assassins likely were responsible for his present state; I just want to know how and when.” Barbara frowned and crossed her arms. “I want to know why he came back to Gotham and why he targeted us all?”

“Being a psychopath isn’t enough of a reason?” Roy grumbled.

            “What does that say about the man who was going to blindly follow him.” Barbara snapped back.

            “Hey.” Oliver frowned. “He already told you that he was checking The Hood out. He didn’t blindly follow Jason at all. Thinking about something isn’t the same as acting on it.”

            “Oliver, stop! I can take of this myself.” Roy practically snarled before her looked up to a now standing Barbara. “Why is it that when I fuck up, it counts for everything. It’s scored against me but when I do something right? It counts for nothing!”

            “What did you do right?” Barbara frowned. “You can’t do the wrong thing first and then change your mind. You’re right. It doesn’t count when you doing the right thing is simply fixing the wrong that you did in the first place.”

            “You know what, Barbara, you’re impossible.” Roy sneered, his rage getting the better of him. “I can’t live up to your standards any more than Dick could.”

            Tim’s jaw dropped and he knew at once that he needed to leave. Oliver was quickly rising to his feet and they both escaped the room, knowing that Roy’s words had just pushed the two into an argument that was none of their business.

            “Perhaps Roy and I should go stay in a hotel.” Oliver suggested as they wandered toward the kitchen.

            “Don’t. It’ll just force us to have to do more work when Bruce requests surveillance to make sure you guys are staying out of it.” Tim sighed. He scratched his head and took a deep breath.

            “That guy’s a real piece of work.” Oliver frowned as they each took a stool at one of the counters. “You think Dick’s gonna be ok?”

            “Of course. The real question is when, not if. I’d imagine it was traumatizing for Dick to discover everything. Especially since he’d just admitted to us that he still struggled with his feelings for JT.”

            The older man nodded and then his eyes focused on Tim. “What about you?”

            “What about me?” Tim shrugged.

            “How are you doing?”

            “I’m fine. I just want to protect my family. I just want us to think before making any moves against him.” He admitted.

            “Timothy, I don’t know you all that well. Roy’s older than you and he spent his time with Dick and Wally. I know you’re a genius and I know you aren’t as prone to making irrational or emotional decisions.” He started and Timothy just knew whatever he was going to say next would sting. “But one thing I can see, is that you need to get away from this for a while.”

            “What?” Tim gasped, not at all expecting that.

            “Not for long, just enough to get your own head back in the game.” Oliver suggested. “Trust me, I can see it in your eyes, in your movements and in your out of character defense of The Red Hood.”

            “But he’s not The Red Hood, he’s Jason.” Tim argued.

            “No. No, he’s not. And that’s what I was trying to tell you earlier.” The blonde archer grimaced and then took a deep breath. “Timothy, you’re probably the smartest Robin and partner that Bruce has ever worked with and I’m including Justice Leaguers, too.

            “However that being said, you haven’t been acting like the smartest partner. You’ve run into danger blindly on more than one occasion and I know Bruce wants you grounded until he can trust you to fly on your own again.”

            Tim glared. “I don’t take orders from you and I need to be here to help my family.”

            “I’m not _telling_ you to leave. I’m _suggesting_ you take some much-needed time away from this city, this situation, this family. You’re a teenager, whether you like it or not, and you are running yourself ragged trying to protect, out smart, and out maneuver everyone. I think you should do it before Bruce decides to send you on a mission not of your choosing.”

            Tim felt his heart flutter at the realization of what Bruce could and likely would do. Barbara, Dick and Jason had all been sent off on stupid missions in the past when it was necessary in Bruce’s opinion to keep his side-kicks out of the city. Hell, it was probably why Bruce had supported Roy and Dick’s Teen Titans idea. It gave them something to do when he didn’t want them around.

            “If you bring it up on your own and show Bruce that you can not only take a hint, but can also step back, he’ll call you home before you know it.” Oliver continued. “Trust me. You’re smart enough to know it’s coming. Go hang out with Gar or Conner or something. Spend some time being a teenager and once Dick, Barbara and Bruce realize how much they need you around here, they’ll call you right back and by then you won’t be so irrational about Jason Todd.”

            Tim nodded his head, considering what the man had to say. He didn’t fully agree with him and he was still sure that his thoughts and actions were completely justifiable, but no one else did and that meant he was going to be sent away soon. So perhaps spinning this into his control was the best outcome for everyone. If he was being punished, they’d ignore their need of him out of stubbornness and a need to teach him a lesson, but like Ollie said, if he went on his own?

            He thanked Oliver and quickly ran upstairs to his room to call Conner.

 

* * *

 

 

Gotham City General Store

1815hrs

 

            Harvey stared into the cart that he was pushing in amazement. He’d assumed that JT was a bit of a junk food kind of guy with the whole chili dog things, but actually, he was just a chili dogs kind of guy. There was a case of chili, four yellow onions, two bags of sharp grated cheddar cheese, two of the twenty-four to a package beef hotdogs and three packages of hot dog buns.

            In the second cart that JT was pushing around were the items he’d mentioned needing earlier. Orange juice, milk. bread, eggs, and then some other things that Harvey knew was for cooking meals. Like actual cooking. There was chicken breast, ground beef, potatoes, vegetables he’d never even heard of, fruits, trail mix in bulk, peanut butter and jelly, margarine and he was still going.

            “What the fuck, Bennett. I thought you said this was just a quick shopping trip.” He growled as the younger man threw in a few different flavors of greek yogurt. Good Lord, hadn’t they already come down the dairy aisle when they were here for the milk, eggs, and cheese?

            “Fuck you, I’m paying for it. What do you care?” The white striped boy snapped back.

            “Do you know how many trips up and down the stairs we’re gonna have to take to get all this crap up to my apartment?” He demanded.

            “Pfft.” JT scoffed. “I’ll fucking get it all in one load or die trying. That’s what double bagging is for.”

            “I thought you ate like me.” He grumbled. “You know, take out?”

            JT whirled on him and lifted his t-shirt up to show off a well-defined, if not scarred up, set of abs. “Do I look like I eat the way you do, Harv?”

            A bright blush filled his cheeks as several people stopped and stared at JT’s nicely formed body. He normally wouldn’t have even flinched, but they were in the middle of a grocery store for crying out loud! A couple girls giggled, a woman stared in surprise, while one man rolled his eyes in disgust or jealousy. He started to do the same when an attractive forty-something year old man approached JT with a lecherous smile.

            “Well, well, well. Look at you.” He grinned and JT tilted his head, still holding his shirt up. The man was writing a number down on a piece of paper and passing it over. “Call me when you’re interested in someone who knows how to take care of himself.” The man winked and then looked to Harvey and sneered. “You can’t expect him to know how to care for you when he can’t even maintain his own health.” 

            JT’s jaw dropped as he took the paper and Harvey could just see the shocked amusement in his teal eyes. The shape of his mouth went from an “O” to something closer to a smile though still open in surprise. At least he’d dropped his stupid shirt and wasn’t showing off his abs to the entire world anymore.

            “Close your mouth, Boy, you look like a fish.” The man demanded and at once Harvey felt his fists tighten. “Has he not taught you any manners when you’re out in public?”

            He watched as JT’s left brow raised, though he did close his mouth. He was eying the man with unrestrained curiosity. Harvey could see where the younger man would find the rude and demanding flirt to be handsome. He was as tall as JT and had salt and pepper gray hair with intensely dark brown eyes. He was clean shaven and wearing clothes that fit him properly, designer jeans and a black button up to be specific. His entire demeanor screamed homosexual, but it also screamed something else; I’m in charge, _always_.

            “Hey buddy, mind your own business and take a walk.” Harvey growled as he approached, a little angry that JT had moved his eyes down to the number as if to memorize it.

            “I was speaking to you.” The man reached up to grab JT’s chin.

            Those teal eyes of JT’s flashed dangerously but JT didn’t have much a of chance to do more than that as Harvey caught the man’s hand before their skin could make contact. He really hoped his blushing looking more angry than embarrassed and uncomfortable, because honestly this was just plain awkward. Especially knowing that JT was the fucking Red Hood and could more than protect himself from the advances of this idiot.

            “Get your hands off me.” The man snarled and pulled back. “You think some slob like you intimidates me in the slightest? You think you’re capable of doing anything more than watching me walk away with him on my arm?”

            Again JT’s eyes widened in shock and the smile had made it’s return, too. Only in Gotham could someone be so brazen as this chump. Harvey really wished JT would do _something_ but he had a feeling the little shit was testing him. Testing to see how much Harvey would let the man get away with before he came to his own rescue from the pervert.

            “The younger gays are all the same in this city.” The man continued. “They just need a real man to show them who the boss is and then they fall in line. Like well-behaved dogs.”

            “Look freak,” Harvey sneered in disgust, ignoring the strange look in JT’s eyes. “I don’t care what kind of kink you’re into, but you try to touch my boyfriend again and you’ll be shitting teeth for a week.”

            This was why Harvey dressed like a slob. The man was unimpressed and unintimidated in the slightest. The moment he finally decided to deck the dude, he’d be so shocked he’d never see it coming. Honestly, the guy looked a little familiar to him and he was starting to wonder if he’d seen his face in a mug shot.

            “Well why don’t we let him decide.” God this asshole was cocky. Harvey started to step forward until JT moved between them. He promptly handed the man back the paper with his number on it.

“You could never be my Daddy. I’m sticking with Harv.” JT smirked as the man took the number back.

            “You’ll change your mind kid,” The man sneered as he and JT started to walk off with their shopping carts. Harvey could have sworn that the man mumbled something like ‘they always do’ under his breath.

            Harvey couldn’t help but stare at JT. He looked oddly excited and full of…Oh God, he was lusting after that freak. He’d liked what he said! Personally, Harvey was as disturbed by it as he was disgusted. How could someone let themselves be treated like that? Especially someone as strong and dangerous as JT Bennett.

            “You want him, don’t you?” He asked as they headed into the cleaning supplies.

            JT didn’t even bother to deny it as he nodded and threw in a package of sponges. “Oh yeah. I want him. I want him _real_ bad.” He grinned and Harvey tried not to focus on the odd feeling of hurt that settled in his stomach. He didn’t want JT, but he didn’t expect the kid to be so shallow. The kid must of have noticed, because he turned from the collection of dish soaps and smirked at him. “Relax, Harvey. You’re getting your wish.”

            “I don’t care who you fuck.” Harvey denied.

            “I’m not gonna fuck him.” JT tilted his head like one of those confused puppies. “I’m gonna _get_ him.”

            “What?”

            “Oh yeah. He’s on…the list. I can’t believe he just walked up to me like that! Definitely a sign.” JT told him with a smile that no man should be wearing while talking so casually about murder.

            Harvey wanted to argue but knew that the grocery store was not the place to have this discussion. He wanted the kid to take it easy, but then he also knew that all these vigilante types were as stubborn as they were reckless.

            “So uh, what put him on the list?”

            “Human trafficking and kidnapping.” JT answered quietly. “He’s slippery, not a lot of good pictures of him. I didn’t even know who he was until he handed me his number.”

            “Oh?” Harvey frowned. That sounded a bit vague. “What if you’ve got the wrong guy.”

            “Obviously I’m gonna triple check everything.” He snorted as if it should have been obvious. “But what really gave it away was the name he used.”

            “He didn’t give you a name.”

            “Not out loud. It was with his phone number.” JT explained. “Look, he could be lurking about watching us. I’ll let you know more when we get back home.” He tossed in a few other supplies and then shook his head with a bemused grin. “Fuck if I’d known that all I had to do was show off my abs to get the criminals crawling out of their hiding places I would have shown off like a dozen times by now.” The kid chuckled to himself.

            Harvey sighed wondering when and how the Hell this had become his life. He contemplated his many terrible decisions as JT continued tossing different items into either of the two shopping carts. Watching him bounce around the aisles served to remind him of the real reason he had allowed the kid to insert him into his life.

            He was so damned young. JT was twenty-one years old and as they walked through the store, Harvey wondered how this funny, crude, immature punk could be the vicious and merciless killer that he was at night. It was like a strange Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde scenario. The boy was just that, a boy and it terrified him that his alter ego would likely get him killed someday.

            There were a lot of dangerous, scary people gunning for him. Fuck, even Joker had the kid on his shit list. What exactly had he done to get that mad man’s attention? The only thing that helped him believe that JT could survive Gotham’s criminal element was knowing that he really was a local. No way an outsider could truly understand the gravity of having a man dressed up as clown hunting you.

            Shit, anywhere else, it’d be downright laughable.

           

            In the end, JT kept his oath of carrying everything up in one load. Harvey rolled his eyes as they stood quietly in the elevator. Both of JT’s arms were lined with dozens of bags and several were carried in his arms on top of the case of chili. The bags of hot dog buns and bread were in his own arms since JT insisted it would be best to let Harvey carry all the fragile shit.

            Harvey grinned and opened the door, taking his sweet time as JT scowled threateningly at him. He pretended to use the wrong key, then dropped them, and then dropped them a second time, ignoring the death glare that JT was shooting at him. He started to put the right key in and then by no small stroke of luck, his cell phone started ringing. Stopping what he was doing for the moment he reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone that was continuing its high shrill. He didn’t answer it, simply stared at the number and pretended to debate on whether or not he should answer the telemarketing call.

            “HARVEY!” JT shouted.

            Chuckling he finally pocketed the phone and then opened the door for JT. The kid moved inside quickly and only just careful enough to not damage anything, began dropping the bags on his…on his hard wood floors! Damn it!

            “Hey! What’d I tell you about the floors!” He yelled.

            “Serves you fucking right for pulling that shit with the keys!”

            “What’s the matter, Muscles. Couldn’t hold out any longer?” He taunted.

            JT’s angry face turned quickly to an evil grin. “Oh my God, are you?” He laughed, no he cackled. “Yes, yes you are! You’re jealous of my strength.”

            He shook his head adamantly. “You’re so far off base you’ll never get home.”

            “Bull shit, it’s true. You’re mad at me because even injured I was still able to carry all that shit and you got stuck holding the bread and eggs!” He laughed heartily.

            “Laugh it up, Kid, but I’m not the one bleeding all over my favorite Metallica shirt.” Harvey pointed out smugly as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer for himself. He popped off the cap and moved the bottle forward as if to cheers him. “Have fun with that.”

            “Oh, fuck me!” JT growled as he looked down at his shirt in horror. There were several small red dots forming along the side of the white t-shirt where his stitches were located beneath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

            As JT ran to the bathroom to get the bleeding under control he took a few swigs of his been and then much to his dismay, found himself beginning to clean out the fridge. He doubted JTs wound was too severe. Though it definitely served him right for carrying all those damned groceries in one go. Harvey wasn’t sure if it was an odd form of laziness that pushed him to do something so stupid or if it was him trying to show-off. He had been twenty-one once, and he knew damned well how often he showed off when he was around people he was attracted to.

            “Hey, you don’t have to do that.” JT said when he returned in an old Megadeth t-shirt. “I told you I’d get to it.”

            He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s my mess. You shouldn’t have to endure it.”

            White Styrofoam box after white Styrofoam box emerged from the fridge with each smelling worse than the last. At one point, Harvey had to run to the windows and open them so that they could both breathe. Unfortunately that didn’t help so JT grabbed a one of the air freshener spray cans that he bought and suddenly the whole apartment smelled like a rotting fruit store.

            “Oh God! You’re making it worse!” He gagged.

            “Oh fuck!” JT choked and ran beside him to the balcony. They struggled briefly to open the sliding glass door before dropping to their knees and gasping for air; JT in particular managing to somehow gag and laugh as well.

            “I swear to God, I’ll never, ever let it get that bad again or may He strike me down.” Harvey coughed as he crossed himself in the typical Catholic fashion.

            Again, JT laughed at him. “Fuck that. You let that fridge get that nasty while I’m here again and I’ll do the smiting. He won’t get a chance.”

            They both sat quietly for a moment on the balcony, just breathing real oxygen before he watched JT leave and then return with a carton of cigarettes. He fished a box out and then started ‘packing’ it. After a moment or two he unwrapped the hard pack and pulled out one before flipping it upside down and placing it back with the other nineteen cigarettes.

            “Want one?” He asked as he held it out in offering.

            “Sure, Kid.” Harvey took one out and watched as JT mimicked him and then searched his pant pockets for a lighter. Rolling his eyes, he pulled a lighter from his own pocket, lit his cigarette and then leaned over. “Here.” He said around the filter that rested between his lips.

            “Thanks.” JT smiled and took a deep drag as the fire met the tobacco. “Sorry about the boots. I keep forgetting.”

            “You’re still wearing them?” Harvey realized with a frown. “Those floors are fucking expensive.”

            “You keep like twelve new species of fungus in your fridge and yet you care about your floors?” JT mocked after blowing out a cloudy breath.

            “Hey, I may not always be the best about cleaning things out, but my stuff is nice.” Harvey insisted.

            “You think I didn’t notice? Those clothes you’re wearing aren’t cheap, Detective.” He smiled knowingly. “Your appliances are top of the line. Your TV may not be huge, but it’s an expensive one. You might appear to be a slob to those who don’t pay attention, but those of us that do? We’ve caught on to your little act.”

            “What act?” He demanded, but he was caught and he damned well knew it. He didn’t expect someone as shallow as Dick to figure it out, so he was more than a little surprised when JT did. Then again, he had to start remembering that JT wasn’t the same shallow prick most twenty-one-year old’s were.

            “It’s your armor. You buy nice things for yourself because you’re proud, but you don’t want people to know that because if they did, they could use it against you. So you also wear and use the things you’re proud of in a way that’s not correct. Like your clothes are baggy and untailored. You know that, but you don’t care because even though you feel good wearing expensive suits, you know others are looking at you like you just came out of goodwill. If they’re thinking you’re a cheap bastard with no self-care, they’re going to be more lax around you. They’ll drop their guard figuring you just plain don’t give a shit.”

            “You know, you’re pretty wise for a kid.” Harvey complimented in the form of a bitter sounding remark. “This what attracted Dick to you?”

            “Fuck no.” JT laughed. “I just sat next to him in a coffee shop and flirted a little before telling him where to meet me.”

            “No way Dick Grayson’s that easy.” Harvey frowned, not sure he believed that the goody-two shoed rich boy would be a sleep around. He’d heard the rumors of course, but he assumed they were just that. Rumors.

            “He’s…He’s not perfect you know.” The boy said uneasily. “He’s got a lot of great qualities, but he definitely does all his thinking with his dick.”

            Harvey would love to get in on the bashing. Not because he disliked Dick, but because in general it was actually a little fun to rag on people. Still, he heard the pain in Bennett’s voice and knew that while it might have helped him to go on a massive bitch fest about his ex, by the end of the night it would just hurt all the more.

            “You know he,” JT started and then quieted immediately. “he really _is_ the nicest guy. He’s got a bad temper, but it takes a lot or something extreme to really get him going. Nothing like me. I’m a short fuse. I always have been.”

            “Why do I get the feeling that you guys shouldn’t have really broken up?” Harvey asked. Because had been getting that feeling. A lot.

            “Oh, trust me, breaking up was the best thing for us. He couldn’t have handled what I do at night. He couldn’t have handled the blood on my hands or the fact that I honestly don’t care that it’s morally and legally wrong.”

            “Not even a little?” Harvey asked, curiosity getting the better of him again. “I mean I don’t blame you fully, I get it. It’s why we’re here, but you mean to tell me you don’t care even a little?”

            “You’ve seen the scars, right?” JT asked and his eyes grew angry and hateful, though he knew that hate wasn’t being directed him. Hell, the anger wasn’t really being thrown at him either. “It’s not about revenge. I won’t lie and say I won’t or don’t enjoy it, but it’s to prevent it from ever happening again. Ever.”

            “Yeah, but the problem with permanent solutions is that they’re often permanent.”

            “No shit.” JT chuckled but it wasn’t without ire.

            “Don’t get me wrong, JT, I’m with you. One hundred percent, but you have to admit that your way of thinking has its flaws.”

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah. I mean. You kill a guy for murdering someone, but then you find out that the guy you killed was just getting his own revenge for the other guy raping his sister.” Harvey pointed out.

            “I wouldn’t kill that guy and I often do my research before adding them to the list.” JT said as he flicked the filter over the side of the balcony. “Its not straight across the board. I don’t just kill anyone who’s taken a life. If that were the case I’d have to take my own life, you know?”

            Harvey nodded. “But what about mistakes? I get that you guys, you vigilantes, you all operate outside the law. You’re less likely to make a mistake, but you’re still human. What if you miss?” He pushed. “What if your knife or a bullet is off course and kills someone else?”

            “Same could happen with a cop.”

            “Yeah, but a cop doesn’t get to hide his identity from those who seek justice.” Harvey shrugged. “Again, I’m not telling you to stop. I’m just thinking out loud here.”

            “That’s why I train so hard and so often. So that I don’t miss.”

            “But someday you will.” Harvey frowned. “And trust me, I know people. You might be their hero for taking out dozens of criminals. Every loved one of their victims will cheer you on but only until you miss. Once that’s happens,” Harvey said gravely as he looked JT in the eyes. “once that happens no one stands by you. No one. You’re the bad guy. You’re a monster who never should have taken the law into his own hands. You’re a creep who had no right playing judge, jury, and executioner. I see it happen to cops every day, man.

            “I’ll tell you something my old man told me once when I was a boy.” He offered. “You can spend your whole life doing good for the world, for your country, your community, your neighborhood, your family. But it only takes one bad act, one wrong move, to condemn a man for the rest of his life. All that good shit you did in the past? Doesn’t mean a thing after you’ve fucked up.”

            “And yet you still became a cop?” He appreciated the kid’s attempt at teasing him, but he was sad to see that the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes.

            “I didn’t care what others thought.” Harvey shrugged.

            “Exactly.” JT smiled and this time, some of that light made it into his blue green orbs. “Exactly, Harvey. I don’t care if I’m hated. I don’t care if they have to make me their enemy. So long as I know that I did everything I could to save even one more life, than I will go to bed with an easy conscience.”

            “Kid, I’ve seen you sleep. You don’t rest easy unless you’re heavily medicated.” He frowned.

            “You’re right. I have nightmares almost nightly, but it’s not from the things I’ve done to people. It’s from my scars, Harvey. It’s from every mark on my body and every mistake I made that led me to the beat down that even if it was only temporary, lead to the loss of my life.

            “I trusted the wrong people. I counted on the wrong people. I made every wrong choice and wrong decision that I could, Harvey. It literally killed me, but I got a second chance and I’m not wasting it. I’m not making those same mistakes twice and those nightmares serve to remind me of everything wrong that I did before. They’ll keep me from doing it again.”

            Harvey took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, Kid. Okay.” He agreed and felt like he was once again pledging himself to the kid’s cause.

 

 

* * *

          

Gotham City Skyline

March 8th

0128hrs

 

            Nightwing flipped through the air, dodging the bat that was swung at him. It wasn’t strictly necessary to flip, a simple duck would have sufficed, but really what was the point in that? He landed gracefully but still delivered a vicious kick to the clown masked thug. The man screamed under the rubber mask and gripped his now injured knee, dropping the bat as he fell.

            “You know, fighting at normal speed isn’t really doing it for me.” Kid Flash snapped after he was tossed to the ground by some massive guy in a Bozo the Clown costume. “If you’d just let me…

            “Then there’d be no point in my coming out here and I need this!” Nightwing snapped irritably as he punched a second of Joker’s minions in the face. The man took a boxing stance and lifted his own fists. “If you fight and take down everyone for me, then I’ll need someone else to beat up.”

            He glanced over and caught sight of Kid Flash simply zipping back and forth, while not even bothering to throw a punch. It would have been funny if he wasn’t so very angry at the world. If he wasn’t so angry at himself, at Tim, or at Alfred or especially Jason freaking Todd! Just thinking his name and knowing the stunt that bastard had pulled on him fueled an especially hard kick to the next goon’s face.

            “Calm down, Nigthwing.” Kid Flash warned. “That temper’s heading in the deadly direction.”

            “Maybe if I did manage to kill one of these guys,” He grunted and paused as someone managed to wrap their arms around his arms and torso in an effort to hold him back. He tossed all his weight backward and the man who apparently wasn’t much larger than he was fell backward on his ass, letting him go. He rolled back over the top of the man and got to his feet before pulling one of his eskrima sticks and taking on two more men who were rushing him. “Maybe, just maybe, Arsenal would take me a bit more seriously!”

            “First of all, he does take you seriously. You’ve been our leader for years. Two, you can’t take it personally, Nightwing.” Kid Flash tried again. “Arsenal thinks his temper is as deadly as The Red Hood’s, he always has. He thought he wanted to prove it and he found out he was wrong. No big deal. Besides, that’s not what you’re mad about and you know it.”

            “Don’t you even say his damned name.” He growled, his temper flaring as he slammed his stick into the gut of another man in a rubber clown mask. The criminal dropped, twitching every few seconds. “I swear if he were to show himself now I’d, I’d...I don’t know what I’d do, but it wouldn’t be good!”

            “Cause that would show him.” His best friend scoffed. “You’d just be playing right into his hands.”

            “How can you be so calm about this? After what he did? We were brothers!” Nightwing sneered as back tumbled forward to avoid a nasty swing. He wasn’t even watching Kid Flash, but he had a feeling the speedsters was no longer fighting at all, but just hanging back and watching him.

            “Hardly.” He was so caught off guard by that one laughing word that Nightwing forgot to duck the next blow and got punched square in the jaw. Good thing his mouth had been shut or he’d probably be unconscious and in need of a rescue. “Oh please, don’t look at me like that. Behind you.”

            He side-stepped gracefully and dropped low to his feet, sweeping the legs out from under the man who punched him and the man who had been coming up behind him. “He was my little brother, we were close!” He argued and got to his feet, lighting up another guy with his left eskrima stick. “Close as-

            “No, you weren’t!” Kid Flash snapped back. “Not at all! He spent three years with you guys, Nightwing! Three and one of those years you pretty much avoided him because of how hurt you were that he took your place!”

            “That isn’t true! He looked up to me! I taught him, he tried to be me!” How could Wally see things so very differently than he had? Was he just not around enough? How could he not have seen how much time the two of them spent together?

            “He looked up to you, yes. He wanted to be you, yes. But he never saw you as a brother. Never.” Wally continued to argue and as Nightwing continued to twirl and flip about, he caught that Kid Flash was indeed out of the fight. He was standing near the hatchway for the roof scarfing down one of his nutrition bars.

            “No that’s not, I mean I get what you were saying earlier today about his crush and all but-

            “There are no buts, Nightwing.” The other young man sighed heavily. “He wasn’t your brother, you didn’t have enough time with him to see you that way!”

“Quantity doesn’t mean anything over quality!”

 “You didn’t have that either! You’ve gotta stop this romanticizing of yours and Hood’s previous relationship. You might have started to get used to him, but seriously try to think back. Try to remember every brotherly thing that you did together. Just try.”

            There was a blur of movement and Nightwing couldn’t help but be grateful to his friend when he realized that one of the men he was currently fighting was about to pull a gun. The weapon was completely dismantled and left on the ground for the man to pout at. He couldn’t exactly go on a walk through his memories, though. The gun thing only proved that.

            And yet even as he tried to think of one memory that didn’t end with him and Jason arguing or Jason running off and trying to get out of some kind of bonding activity, he realized what Wally was trying to make him understand. They’d had very few outings that didn’t blow up in either of their faces.

            “It’s your guilt, Man. That’s what made you remember things differently.” Kid Flash frowned from a new perch that was a little closer to the fighting men. “You felt bad when he died because you realized that you two never ended up as close as you could have been.”

            A new kind of fury built up within, an inner fury. One that had always been internalized and he felt his all that outer rage slowly dissipate. He _should_ have tried harder with Jason. He should have _made_ Jason bond with him. Instead, he’d only been too relieved when the cranky teen wanted nothing to do with him and his friends or when he insisted on being left alone.

            He recalled how often Jason had wanted to be around him and realized the truth of his best friend’s words. Jason only wanted to be around when it came to fighting, when it came to proving he was an equal. He didn’t want to bond with him because he must have known that Dick was trying to be his big brother when all he’d ever wanted was a friend and likely a lot more than that.

            The memory of the Teen Titans and his disastrous removal gnawed at his conscience anew. Jason was just trying to prove himself. To him, to everyone. He wanted their respect far more than their camaraderie. Lord, he’d always been a strange kid. Or maybe he’d just thought that he could gain more with them after he’d gotten what he wanted. Or maybe Jason really only understood respect.

            When a fist flew at him, he grabbed it and twisted it unnaturally as the man dropped to his knees. Dick continued to bring the arm backward and then released him only after kicking the man’s back so that he was forced to his hands and knees. Predictably, the man’s injured arm gave out and he was flat on his face.

            “Like I said, three years, Nigthwing. The first was spent mostly avoiding him from your own hurts while he tried to be you. The second was likely spent with him realizing he could never be you and then resenting you for it while competing with you. That’s why none of your attempts to bond with him worked. He was too angry.”

            “But there were good times. There were.” He insisted because that _was_ true.

            “Yeah and while for you those good times were spent fondly with a brand-new brother you were just getting used to, they were something different for him. They were moments where his hero-worship started turning toward a boyhood crush.” Kid Flash shrugged. “Then the third year? Come on, Nigthwing, think about it? That was Hell for everyone, especially him. He was just coming into his own and the rest of us were more afraid of him than we were impressed by him. We didn’t like who he was becoming or who we could see him becoming.”

            He swallowed against the truth of what he heard from his closest friend. He was right. Fights, arguments between Bruce and Jason that were nothing like his own had been. Everyone was constantly on Jason’s ass about something. His swearing, his smoking, his temper, his violence, his refusal to get along with anyone, his sarcasm, his sneaking out both for who knew what and for trying to fight by himself.

            Once more, Dick flipped backward as he fought the last man standing. He tried to stay focused on the fight but he’d gone auto-pilot while he thought of Jason and his brief time with Bruce and Alfred and sometimes him. He remembered the good, but mostly he allowed himself to finally remember the bad. The bad that he’d never wanted to acknowledge after the boy had died because that meant acknowledging his own failures.

            In a sense, he already had though, hadn’t he? After-all, he’d become a better brother for Tim because he _did_ know how inconsistent he’d been for Jason. He’d cried himself to sleep several nights in a row when Jason died because he wanted to take back so many arguments, so many names he’d called him, so many moments where he’d brushed him off out of a need for his own space or simply because he thought he’d have more fun without him.

            His vision blurred as his jaw tightened and his teeth started to grind. He caught hold of the man and slammed him to the ground. His auto-pilot movements were starting to fail him as he felt a fist land against his stomach and he doubled over. He threw a vicious upper cut, but his mind was too heavy with thoughts that were probably best held back until he was finished fighting.

            Why? Why hadn’t he done more? Why hadn’t he tried harder? All those old regrets assaulted him. Why hadn’t anyone noticed that he was back in contact with his mother? Why hadn’t they noticed when he’d started to plan his trip, his escape? Why hadn’t he protected him? Why hadn’t he been there for him like he was for Tim now? No wonder Jason had refused to talk to him or anyone else about what he was going through. Would any of them have listened had he tried? Or would they have just shrugged him off??

            “NIGHTWING!”

            He gasped as he barely ducked a blade coming at his throat. Time seemed to stop as his cerulean blue eyes stared in horror at the knife and the bit of blood that rest on it’s tip. He reached up instinctively for his throat as a flash of yellow and red removed the man from his reach. Nightwing dropped to his knees, more from the shock than from any wound. 

            “Are you alright? Nightwing?” Kid Flash was by his side once more and looking him over carefully before the red head’s green eyes landed on the mark. “Oh thank God! He barely nicked you but the way you reacted? Are you alright?”

            Nightwing didn’t respond at first as he kept drawing in deep breaths and releasing them slowly. He had been reckless and stupid. It was a bad habit he knew, one that many of his mentors and friends had tried to warn him about in the past, but as he sat on his knees, he realized for possibly the first time in his life how incredibly dumb he’d been. Kid Flash had tried to tell him that tonight was not the night for this and yet he hadn’t listened.

What Bat ever did when they had their minds set on something? Stubbornness was clearly a learned trait in this family.

 He’d nearly, he could have…He shook his head and pressed the communicator in his ear. “I need the police to come and pick these clowns up, Oracle.” He requested, his voice sounding eerily calm despite the emotions rolling through him. What was wrong with him that even after this startling revelation about his own lack of survival instincts, he was still thinking about his relationship both former and current with Jason?

            “You alright?” His friend asked again and he nodded. “I’m sorry, Nightwing. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to work things out with him.”

            “He’s really not my brother, is he?” He asked, barely noticing the tears that fell down his cheeks. “He never was.”

            “I,” The other stalled. “I don’t think so, no.”

            “Oh wow.” Nightwing chuckled bitterly, or maybe desperately. “It feels like he just died all over again.” He said clutching his chest painfully.

            “Come on, we gotta get out of here before the police arrive.”

            “Yeah. Yeah I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to my tumblr buddy gwydionx (I have no idea how to hyper link, I'm sorry, I just don't have those skills) who kept me laughing when all i had was my phone and kept my inspired to keep writing. You guys should seriously check out her stuff. It's hilarious, incredible and so fun! 
> 
> Also, to each and everyone of you who comment, you've kept me motivated as well. You've helped me get over my anxiety of posting this chapter after I fell out of the groove and dealt with all those stupid computer and then thumb drive issues. Thank you, thank you, thank you for not abandoning me. I promise that no matter what happens (barring you know, death) I will not give up on this story. Updates should be at least monthly from here on out so long as RL doesn't kick me in the teeth again with these stupid computers lol. 
> 
> Also, I may be looking for a beta soon depending on what happens with my roommate. She's been getting the raw end listening to the story for errors and I think she'd like to actually read it and experience it without hearing the terrible ideas or listening for mistakes. So if anyone's interested just let me know.


	35. Seeing Red Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a few things for this chapter’s notes. First off thank you to [Gwydionx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/pseuds/gwydionx) for beta-ing. If you all see errors, blame her. Haha! Just kidding. 
> 
> Also, we are returning to the violence and mania that is Jason Todd. I am adding to the tags that there is a lot of non-pc foul language and insults as well extreme violence and graphic descriptions of all that. If you think other tags should be added, let me know and I’ll do my best to accommodate that. 
> 
> Normally I don’t like tagging my stories to death because I think it can take away from some of the mystery of the story, but I really don’t want to catch people off guard either. Now, I know in the comics Jason doesn’t swear as incessantly as he does in my story, but I truly believe it’s because DC won’t allow it rather than it being out of character. Either way, this is not a canon version of Jason anyhow so I stand by my interpretation of him and his potty mouth.
> 
> As always, please enjoy and let me know how you feel about it. I believe this is the longest chapter to date? I could be wrong, but I know it’s a big one and I hope that makes up for the time it took update. Thank you all for reading! 
> 
> Also formatting has gone straight to Hell, I'm really sorry.

Chapter 35 – Seeing Red Again

 

Wayne Manor

March 8th

0128hrs

            Barbara wasn’t at all surprised when Kid Flash and Nightwing kept the channel opened between them only. She knew they’d contact her when and if they needed her. She also knew Dick well enough to know by now that he needed to work off his aggression and anger. Normally she would have tried to find a way to get him barred from going out when he was so out of it, but with Wally around, she knew he’d be protected from himself.

            The acrobat was reckless and wild when he was worked up. Sure, he’d been depressed this morning but as the afternoon had worn on, they could all see the anger starting to grow within him. After he left the discussion between them all; Dick refused to speak to Alfred or Tim. He wasn’t rude, that just wasn’t his way, but he did avoid them and it was obvious.

            Everyone seemed to be on pins and needles in the manor. Tim had only come down for dinner and then immediately locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. Alfred and Bruce had disappeared after dinner as well, though Bruce had gotten extremely tired once dinner was over and had called it a night. Alfred continued his usual work, but he didn’t speak or make eye contact with anyone, though he did check his phone often. Wally stuck close to Dick until it was time for them to patrol and Oliver tried to do the same with Roy, but after her fight with the archer, Roy had insisted on going outside alone and had skipped dinner altogether.

            She stared at the computer, every bit of information they had on The Red Hood and JT Bennett pulled up. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but really, she couldn’t go back upstairs to the silent house. Not only did she want to be available for Nightwing and Kid Flash, but she felt better down in the cave by herself. Even as most of the inhabitants slept, the tension was just too thick.

            “Hey.”

             She tried not to be irritated at the sound of Roy’s voice, but she couldn’t help it. His words earlier had been far more hurtful than he knew.

             “You wanna talk?”

            “If I did, I wouldn’t have walked out earlier during our last ‘talk’, Roy.” She hated how snotty she sounded. Actually, she hated how bitchy she was anytime she was with Roy. With Dick, she’d been fun and easy going, but with Roy? She was the nagging girlfriend who always knew best and she didn’t want to be that girl. She wasn’t that girl.

            “You rolling off didn’t solve anything and it left us in limbo. I can’t let things just sit like that.” Roy sighed as he came over in his crutches. “Why are you allowing that stupid asshole to ruin our relationship?”

            “What?” She turned and faced him in surprise. “You and I fighting has nothing to do with Jason Todd!” How could he think that? Did he even listen to her earlier?

            “Are you kidding me?” Roy argued, his voice already rising. “You and I were getting on great until I told you about watching him! The moment I opened up to you and told you about why I came to Gotham you turned on me!”

            “Well what did you expect, Roy?” She demanded as her own anger rose. “You basically told me that the visit you claimed you were making for me and Dick was actually all about doing reconnaissance on a serial killer that you were thinking about joining up with!”

            He gritted his teeth, she could tell by the way his jaw tightened. Roy’s green eyes were narrowed as he kept silent, obviously trying to manage his temper a little bit, not that it would do him much good. In the end, Roy always gave into his temper. It was another thing she’d only started to notice after his leg injury.

            “Why don’t you listen when I talk?” Roy said through gritted teeth. He was definitely trying to keep his temper in check. “I didn’t join him. After what I saw, I had no intention of joining him.”

            “Oh please!” She shouted. “You have everyone here fooled with that same bullshit line, but it’s just that, Roy! It’s crap! It’s crap and what’s worse is that you know it and you’re too afraid to admit it. To tell everyone what’s really bothering you!”

            “Oh yeah, because you know me so well don’t you?” Roy shouted with skeptical anger. “So damned well. You tell me what I’m pissed off about then. Tell me, Barbie. Tell me what you think my problem is. I can’t wait to hear this.” 

             “I _do_ know you, whether you believe it or not! You said you weren’t going to join him, that you were going to turn him in because you realized what he was doing was wrong? That’s why you shot him?”

             “Yes.”

             “Then why didn’t you call for back up?” She asked. “Why didn’t you tell anyone that you found him?”

              He stared at her silently and then shrugged. “I didn’t think about it.” But she saw the doubt in his eyes, the fear that she was right. “I swear!”

            “Roy,” Barbara sighed and shook her head. “I know you all think I don’t care or that I’m just being cold and a bitch, but I just see things differently than all of you. You didn’t call for back up because you weren’t sure yet. You were still toying with him, still testing him and even if you can’t admit it to yourself, you’re not mad that he’s a killer, Roy. You’re not.”

            He shook his head, denying everything she said. “You think you know everything, but you don’t! I hate him for what he did! He’s a monster, an unthinking, unfeeling shit head who doesn’t care about anyone! He manipulated us all and he has no heart!”

            “That’s my point, Roy. You _are_ mad at him. You might even hate him. But not because he’s a killer.” She said softly and waited for his angry eyes to meet hers. “You’re mad at him because of what he did to you.” He started to deny it but she held up her hand. “It’s true, Roy. You hate him because he hurt you, because he beat you and because he may have ruined your ability to be a vigilante. Hell, you might even hate him because he got to date Dick and you didn’t.

            “You don’t hate what he does, you just hate what he did to you.” She took a deep breath. “And you’re right. We can’t sit here in limbo wondering what’s going on with each other, so I’ll just say it, alright? I’ll be the bad guy here, too. The shrew you so desperately need me to be so that you can continue to feel picked on. We’re through, Roy.”

            “Barbara…” He gasped at her words. “You can’t be serious. It’s just a fight.”

            “It’s not just a fight, Roy. I can’t be with someone who if not for being grievously wounded by the man, would have joined him. Maybe I do expect too much of the men I’m with, but on this, I can’t budge.” She stated as calmly as she could, though her hands trembled and she worried her voice did, too. “I can’t overlook that, Roy. I couldn’t face this decision earlier this afternoon, but I can’t keep running from the truth either. We’re just not a good fit.”

            Roy glared and she saw the sheen in his eyes that warned he was so close to breaking down. She wanted to take it all back; at least the cowardly side of her did. The side that insisted that she could force this to work. The side that feared Roy would use this break up, this unexpected act as a reason to dive back into the world of drugs and alcohol.

            But, she couldn’t do that to him or especially herself. She couldn’t let him make her responsible for his life or his choices. She wasn’t that girl, no matter how tempted she might be to try. She knew better and damn it, she knew he knew better, too. She couldn’t be held hostage by his addictions.

            He turned abruptly, or as best he could with crutches, and headed back upstairs through a lift that Bruce had installed for Barbara when she became wheelchair bound. She waited until she was sure he was out of sight before turning back to the computer and covering her face with her hands. A few tears fell, but internally she berated herself for being so upset. Bruce would never let things get to him like this.  

            “Are you alright?”

            She jumped and gasped as her teary eyes took in the silhouette of Bruce Wayne. “You scared me,” she admitted. “I thought you were in bed?”

            “I’m sorry.” He offered her a rare smile, a fatherly one. Or maybe a brotherly one? Either way, it offered warmth and comfort. “I woke up and found I couldn’t get back to sleep so I came down to look at some things. I would have alerted you to my presence, but Roy started talking.”

            “I can’t say I’m really surprised.” She tried to laugh as she wiped away a few unshed tears. When she looked back at his face, which was grim with a tight frown and narrowed cobalt eyes, she realized at once that Bruce was deeply disturbed by what he’d just heard and she immediately hated his stealthy skills. “He won’t join The Red Hood, Bruce. He’s not like that.”

            Bruce’s left brow arched before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “Don’t try protecting him now, Barbara. You meant what you said to him and I, for one, agree with you.” She bit at her bottom lip. She didn’t want Bruce to hear that. Neither Oliver nor Bruce should ever hear that about Roy. It would have devastated Roy to know that his mentor and best friend’s father felt that way about him. “I’m not saying he will start killing, but he does agree with The Red Hood’s methods.”

            “He’s a good man, Bruce. He wouldn’t –

            “Barbara, your instincts are spot on,” Bruce interrupted. “They are. It’s why I had you work with Jason for a while, remember? You have a knack for knowing what a person is capable of.”

            “I shouldn’t have said what I did tonight or even back then.” She shook her head as she thought back to that night. “I shouldn’t have told you about the darkness.”

            “Why not?” He asked simply.

            “Because it wasn’t fair to him.” For years, she’d kept her regrets about Jason to herself, but after what had just gone down with Roy, she couldn’t keep her regrets like that buried inside of her. She needed someone to know the truth. “I saw darkness in him, Bruce. I did. I knew he was struggling with so many different things, but I still shouldn’t have told you.”

            He frowned, but didn’t verbally encourage her to continue. Instead his eyes widened just a little, the request to continue obvious without words.

            “I should have told you about the _potential_ I saw in Jason.” She closed her eyes and took another deep, steadying breath. “He had so much of it back then. He wanted so desperately to impress Dick and especially you, but that wasn’t what I focused on. Instead I let my fears for and of him be the main talking point. If I hadn’t done that, who knows what could have happened, Bruce? He might still be a Robin. You might not have pushed him away or agreed when the Teen Titans kicked him off the team. He might not have gone looking for that awful woman.”

            She tried to deny the gut-wrenching guilt, but that was hard to do when her chest was so tight and her throat was incapable of swallowing around the large lump residing there. She could have told him her fears in so many different ways that would have ended much better, but instead she’d laid it all out like a report. She simply told him what she thought he needed to know of Jason and left it at that.

            “I know you won’t believe me” Bruce started, “but you should because what I’m about to tell you is a fact.”

             She found herself leaning forward to hear this crucial bit of information he was about to share with her.

             “I had my doubts about Jason long before I came to you. You merely confirmed what I already believed and had you told me opposite of what I expected, I think we both know what I would have done.”

            Her large blue eyes widened as she saw the pain etched over his face. He rarely ever showed that kind of thing to anyone and she could only assume it was because he still wasn’t quite up to snuff. She wanted to comfort him, but she also knew that in doing so, he’d realize his mask of stoicism had dropped and he’d either leave or close-up on her.

            “You can’t treat Roy differently, Bruce. He’ll think I came to you and warned you about him or something and I don’t think I can be responsible for something like that again.”

            “You aren’t responsible for Roy and as I said, you weren’t responsible for Jason either. Young as he was, he made his own decision; just like Roy will.”

             He looked angry, but there was something else lurking in the shadows of his grim features that wasn’t normally there. If only she could name it. She wanted to call it guilt, but Bruce wasn’t really the guilt-ridden type, though she did know he felt that emotion more keenly than most he allowed others to see in him. She knew what the look would have been had it been on her face, though.

             Regret.

             “If anyone is to blame for Jason, anyone at all, it’s me.” Bruce stated firmly, making it clear she was not just to trust him, but to accept his word as fact. “He was a disobedient fifteen-year-old who wanted his mother when his mentor failed him. You can’t put his death or especially his return on your shoulders.”

            There was chirping from the computer followed by Dick’s voice requesting the police at his current location for a pick up. She quickly acknowledged him and made contact with dispatch before confirming everything with the blue and black costumed vigilante. In total, maybe two and half minutes had elapsed, but it was more than enough time for The Bat to make a hasty and silent exit.

 

* * *

 

 

            Roy frowned as he made his way back to his room. He couldn’t believe she’d just ended it, and why? Because she believed that him not calling for back-up was because of continued doubts? What kind of over-analytical shit was that? He didn’t know why he didn’t call for back up but he sure as Hell didn’t believe it was because he subconsciously didn’t want to!

            And worse?

            Bruce overheard everything! It hadn’t registered that there was another presence in the cave with them until he turned toward the lift. Now Bruce was going to go to Oliver and Dick and tell them what he’d heard. They’d never trust him again! They’d turn on him and keep him from working with any of their teams and he couldn’t face that. Being sidelined over an injury was one thing, but being exiled for something he didn’t even do?

            He tossed his crutches beside his bed as he glared angrily at nothing in particular. It wasn’t fucking fair! He clenched his fists as he stood, all his weight on the right leg. He wanted to destroy everything around him, to throw a massive tantrum the likes no one in the house had ever seen before and yet, he just wasn’t that same person anymore. He was mad. He was insulted. But there was nothing that destroying Bruce Wayne’s guest room could take back.

            He sat on the bed and ran his hands through his hair as he pulled out his cell phone. He could try talking to Oliver, try explaining it to him, but he’d never take his side over Bruce’s. Even talking to Bruce about the whole thing wouldn’t help because once the billionaire made up his mind that was it, and everyone knew it. He gritted his teeth and stared at the phone and for once, he found he wasn’t worried about drugs or pain. Just anger.

            “I gotta get out of this place,” he decided aloud as he got up very carefully and searched for the bag and suitcase that he’d brought his clothes and gear in. Maybe he’d call for a cab or an Uber thing, he thought as he started to pack. “But then Oliver will just follow me and I can’t…” He couldn’t face the man’s disappointment. Not after what they’d just gone through together, not after having a really healthy talk for once.

            For a moment, he truly felt that he hated Barbara. He took two deep breaths as he zipped his clothing into place and then shook his head. No. He didn’t hate her. He didn’t even dislike her. He was just hurting. Sure, things hadn’t gone as wonderfully as he’d hoped, but damn it, he didn’t expect everything to spiral straight to Hell either.

            Why did she have to notice something so stupid and insignificant and then turn it into a big deal? Only a girl could analyze that whole scenario until she came up with the worst possible outcome. He rubbed his eyes, pretending they itched instead of burned. “Fuck, if you can’t even admit that you’re crying to yourself then who’s to say she’s wrong?” he asked himself and chuckled before sighing and pulling out his phone again. “Fuck…” No. It was a bad idea. “Then again, if I’m going to be accused of it anyhow?”

            He texted the words and then pocketed the phone. Once he was finished packing, he couldn’t believe how much better he felt. Even if he didn’t get a response, he felt justified. He felt vindicated. Now all he had to do was wait Dick and Wally out. There was no way he could stay with Oliver and he knew damned well Dick wasn’t planning to stick around after the silent treatment he’d seen the acrobat throw at Alfred and Tim.

            He, Wally and Dick would just go stay at Dick’s place and everything would get better. Oliver would get a clue and realize he wasn’t wanted or needed and he’d fly home. He and Barbara wouldn’t have to be stuck together every night that she came by to work in the cave and he wouldn’t have to suffer the accusatory looks from the rest of the bat family.

            Besides, he’d been unfair to Dick. He wouldn’t automatically take Bruce and Barbara’s side. They were friends, and he would know that Roy needed him just like Dick needed Roy and Wally for a few weeks. They’d be able to lean on each other and they’d get through this nightmare as they always had when they were Titans. Together.  

            After a few minutes, he felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out and stared at the two words that could finally change everything for better or worse.

            _Prove it._

 

* * *

 

Kinks (Underground S&M Club)

0255hrs

 

            He hadn’t brought his guns. A risky move for sure, but he couldn’t. Hell, he almost didn’t bring his knives. Normally he could improvise a little with his plans, but this couldn’t be risked. He actually needed something from this disgusting piece of filth that _dared_ to call itself a human being. Killing him after cutting him to ribbons wasn’t going to work this time.

            Breathe, Jason! Also, let him breathe now, too because his face is really looking blue. “What’s the matter Lord Alpha Pain? Asphyxiation isn’t one of your kinks?” he snarled as he stood from his kneeling position. “Or maybe you only like it when you’re the one doing the choking?”

            Sean Bixby, the grocery store guy who’d gotten Harv all protective of him, was also known online as LordAlphaPain69696. The guy was a creep, and not just because of his kinks, but because he was a fucking creep. It wasn’t enough to play his games with willing participants, oh no. He had to rape his victims. He had to find people who didn’t like his games. He liked to hurt them for real. He liked to control them. Own them.

            To make an already creepy guy creepier, Sean would also lure women in with his admittedly good looks. But the women suffered a far worse fate than his so-called lovers. Sure, _he_ didn’t rape the women he captured, but eventually someone else did, and worse? They didn’t get to go home confused and frightened of what had happened to them and their bodies the night before. They got sold off to be raped and drugged and raped some more until the end of their tragic lives.

            His blood boiled just at the thought and he felt grateful that he didn’t have his guns once more. He was so close, so close to just ripping into the man. He wondered briefly how hard it would be to literally rip into the man and claw into his stomach cavity with just his bare hands and blunted nails.

            Fucking Christ, Jason. Settle your ass down until you have what you need.

            “You conscious Mr. Alpha-Whatever?” His mechanized voice demanded as he bent at the waist to stare down at the writhing, naked man whose wrists were bound behind his back.

            “F-fuck you.” He coughed and choked.

            “Cough, talk or choke. You can’t do it all at once.” He smirked. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

            “You,” -big deep breath from Mr. Bixby- “have no idea who you’re fucking with.”

            He almost laughed at the audacity of this fuck actually thinking he was in the position to threaten The Red Hood. Eh, fuck it. He laughed and knew it came out far more menacing with his voice modulator.

            “You go by the handle Lord Alpha Pain followed by three, sixty-nines. I know exactly the type of idiot I’m dealing with,” he growled. “Fuck, I was just relieved to find you weren’t a twelve-year-old boy playing with Mommy or Daddy’s laptop.”

            “Take off all the shit, let’s see how big of a man you really are,” the man dared as he got to his knees somewhat awkwardly, his hateful eyes burning up at him. “You’re a real tough guy in all that body armor with a bunch of weapons hidden on you, but without it?”

            “You’re trying real hard for an Avengers moment, aren’t ya?” Jason snickered letting himself get caught up in the banter. Anything to keep the red from stealing his vision and taking control. “I’d still be a world class assassin, fuck-head.” 

            “This is Gotham! I ain’t afraid of you masked freaks.”

            “That would be, _what is the most cliched line spoken by all criminals in Gotham_ , Alex.” Jason rolled his eyes as he reached down and grabbed the man’s throat once more. “You all say it,” he laughed cruelly, “and yet it’s also the greatest lie you’ll ever tell.”

            Sean Bixby’s eyes bulged as Jason tightened his right hand around the rapist’s throat and squeezed. Jason saw the man’s arms twitch against their bonds as if he thought he could try to break the hold. Focusing on those brown eyes, Jason watched the fear return in Sean’s eyes; the panic that he wouldn’t get to ease the burning pain in his lungs and at once, Jason released him.

            Jason grabbed his own chest for a moment, his heart racing and vision blurring as he gasped for air once, twice. Oh, what the fuck is wrong with you? You didn’t fucking pull this shit when Black Mask was choking the life out of you! Fuck you’re not even the one being choked!

            “You’re no monster, _Boy_.” Sean hissed after taking a few of his own breaths. “You’re just a kid playing pretend. Just playing at being a monster.” The man was getting to his feet, Jason could hear it, but he couldn’t shake off the panic attack, couldn’t shake off that memory of… “Monsters, don’t empathize. We don’t relate to pain or fear or panic. We don’t feel anything but our own selfish pleasure. That’s how we survive.”

            Get your shit together, Todd! He may be bound but don’t you dare underestimate some sick fuck like Bixby. He closed his eyes tight, pushing away the confined space, the gasping breaths and the terror of never breaking free or breathing. Get over it man, he’s right behind you! Likely about to kick in your knees.

            Jason whirled around and elbowed the man in the face, bone crunching on impact. He grabbed the naked dom by his throat, this time with both hands, and slammed him into the black padded walls that surrounded them in the small “play room”. He held him in the air like he did Ryan Murphy, holding him as that burning red rage started to play at the edges of his vision.

            “Who picks up the girls you kidnap?” Jason demanded, squeezing tightly before letting off just enough to let the man struggle for air and hopefully answer his damned question before he decided to just snap his fucking neck. “Who?”

            “I’m dead either way.” Sean Bixby hissed.

            “You tell me who you sell those girls to, and I’ll let you live,” he growled, still struggling to calm himself down.

            There was hesitation in the man’s eyes, but he shook his head. “No. They’ll kill me instead.”

            “Well, I can promise you that without a name, a legitimate name, you won’t survive the next ten minutes,” Jason warned before he maneuvered his prey to a hook in the floor and latched the hand cuff chain to it.

             The new position forced Bixby to sit flat on his ass as he stared up at Jason. The experienced man of bondage didn’t seem too impressed or frightened, but Jason wasn’t even close to finished. He grabbed a three-foot spreader bar off the wall and fastened it to the man’s feet. He moved on to his back pack and pulled out several bottles of lighter fluid.

            “What….what the fuck are you doing?” There was the fear. Finally!

           “Alright,” he said beneath his dented red helmet while he started dumping copious amounts of the flammable liquid all over the naked man. “I’m about to give you your last opportunity to tell me who you sell the girls to, Lord Alpha Whatever. I think the consequences of lying to me or flat out refusing to answer me are pretty fucking clear at this point, wouldn’t you agree?”

            Sean’s eyes widened as he looked up in terror and shook his head. “Th-there’s a sprinkler system…It would douse the flames.” The man insisted none too convincingly.

            Jason pulled out his favorite lighter and smirked. “This is an illegal, underground sex club in the middle of _Gotham_.” He flicked the zippo open and held the flame up to the emergency system. _Nothing_ happened. “Corner-cutting is to be expected by criminals.”

            “Her name’s Valerie Nielsen, alright?” the man spat hurriedly. “Valerie Nielsen. She calls me once a month to find out how large an order I have prepared.”

             He pocketed the lighter and found once more he was tempted, so fucking tempting, but first he had to make sure the information wasn’t bogus. He pulled out his cell phone and frowned when he noticed a text message from Roy. “What in the actual fuck?”

             “No, she’s real! She’s real I swear! White, blue eyes, straight blonde hair and she’s maybe five feet four. She has those squinty Taylor Swift looking eyes. I swear, don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.”

             Rolling his eyes, Jason reached over and smacked the idiot in the face. “Calm down, Asshole. It’s got nothing to do with your contact information.”

             Roy: _I want in. We need 2 talk. No games. No tricks. Just a real partnership._

             Yeah right. Like he’d trust that shit. The Red Hood and Arsenal? In what fucked up universe was that even possible? He snorted and flicked over to Harvey’s contact information to send him a text message with the name of the woman Bixby had given him. He kept waiting for the anger to build up, but Roy had severely distracted him.

             What in the Hell was that stupid ginger trying to pull? What was he up to? Had Dick or Bruce put him up to it? Were they trying to get him to move in on him as an undercover plant or something? It was hard to imagine considering the hatred he and Roy had for each other, especially since most of the Bat Family likely were all made aware of his true identity. Hell, if any of them thought back to his time with the Titans they’d know how little they got along.

              Then again, wouldn’t that be the perfect plan though? Use someone he hated? Someone he’d likely never trust enough to let close to him. Someone who he would therefore never suspect of spying on him? He scratched at his neck with his gloved fingers, trying to push away from this thoughts on Roy, but they persisted, especially as he reasoned how badly Roy hated him after that whole leg injury thing.

             Fuck, after what he’d done?

             And yet, what if it wasn’t a ploy? Roy was textbook stubborn. If Roy was told by anyone to pretend to be on Jason’s side he’d do the exact opposite. With how badly he was injured and why he was injured, there was no way Roy would ever speak to him or consider working with him unless he genuinely wanted to work with him, right?

            Well, unless of course this was Roy’s own little plan for getting revenge on Jason for nearly crippling the archer. Because really? Bruce would never ask Roy for help. Hell, the Bat didn’t want any of the other capes in his city and he damned sure didn’t want them getting involved in what he knew Bruce would consider ‘family’ matters.

            His phone chimed.

            HB: _The name is legit. She’s being investigated for human trafficking as we speak. FBI took over the case about a year ago. No finite evidence to bring her in yet._

He sighed and looked to his victim. “Looks like the information is accurate.” He walked back to the wall as he pocketed the phone and grabbed hold of a rubber ball gag. He approached Bixby, all that rage finally seeping back into his body as he looked over the parasite in front of him. “Open your mouth.”

            He must have felt safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be killed, because Lord Alpha opened his mouth immediately. Once the device was fastened, Jason took the remaining lighter fluid and dumped it all over the room and Bixby.

            The man struggled against his bonds as he tried to scream but was muffled by the rubber ball. Jason shouldered his back pack back on. He had to force himself to walk away without attacking him physically, reminding himself that death by beating wouldn’t hurt near as much as the flames.

            “I know I promised I’d let you live. What can I say? I lied,” Jason told him. “but man, if you think your death is gonna suck, just imagine what I’m gonna do to that fucking cunt you work with.”

            He stepped toward the door and pulled out a book of matches cause he damned sure wasn’t leaving behind his zippo. “Rot in Hell you miserable fucking asshole,” he snarled as he lit one and waited for it to catch the other matches on fire. He dropped the book to the doused floors and left the play room, shutting the door tightly behind him.

            “Oh my God, are you...?” A gothic looking woman gasped, her question unfinished as her charcoal lined eyes looked to the door he’d just exited. “I think I’ll just grab my friends and leave,” she whispered probably more to herself than him, but then again, he was pretty frightening.

            “Anyone comes to his rescue and you’re next.” He snarled.

            “N-no way,” she promised. “No one really liked him anyhow.”

            “Good. Get out of here before I change my mind,” he growled and she was gone before he even said ‘mind’.

            He was at the end of the hall, the last dungeon room in the building and he knew there weren’t many guests ‘playing’ tonight. He walked calmly down the hall and banged on each door. “Fire, get the fuck out,” he’d growl and wait for the players to unbind their partners. Once or twice he had to walk in and cut them loose due to frightened doms who thought he was there for them and were unable to do anything more than run for their lives.

            If he’d had time to really do some research on Kinks and its patrons, he might not have made sure everyone got out of the building safely. Hell, he might have made sure a few remained where they were, but he couldn’t take the chance that innocent lives were present.

            “Hey freak!” a man shouted and there was the distinct sound of a gun being cocked behind him.

            Jason dropped low and at the same time that he turned, his hands reached for the throwing knives on his belt. As soon as he saw the man he let the metal objects fly. Two hit their marks with one striking the man’s right shoulder and the other hitting him in the gut. The gun dropped to the ground, but Jason cringed in pain when he felt a bullet strike his body armor.

            Thank God for Kevlar.

            Jason pulled two more knives and rushed the tall man who remained standing but was starting to double over in pain. He didn’t throw them this time opting instead to tackle the man to the ground. He would finally be able to release that hatred, that rage and the violence he so desperately wanted to indulge in.

            “They’re gonna get you.” The man groaned as Jason straddled his body and pressed the tips of both knives to his throat. “They’re gonna fucking kill you for what you did to my club.”

             “You fucking piece of shit, you knew what Bixby was doing, didn’t you? You knew he was raping men and selling women!” he accused, ignoring the heavy smell of smoke filling the hallway. “What’d you get for keeping it quiet?”  

            The man’s face contorted into a cruel smile. “First pick and a five percent finder’s fee. Go ahead and kill me, Hood. Ain’t nothing you do to me gonna save the girls we already sold.”

            Roaring his rage, Jason lost himself to the red as he alternated between punching and stabbing the man beneath him. It wasn’t until he started gasping and choking himself that he realized he needed to leave. Abandoning the bloody pulp of a man, he escaped the burning building out the back doors.

            He removed his helmet as soon as he was out in the night air and breathed deeply. He had his domino mask on and his white streak spray painted black so he wasn’t worried about behind recognized, but thankfully no one was out here. He could hear the sirens of the firetrucks and quickly took his back pack off so that he could grab the sign.

            He dropped it beside the back door, took a picture in case it didn’t survive and then snickered at the sight of his little sign and wondered how on Earth Bruce Wayne could call _him_ a psychopath. He was the one who let guys like Bixby and the club owner live. The one who allowed them to continue prowling the streets in search of their next victims.

            “Fuck him,” he snarled aloud as he started walking toward home. Speaking of Bruce, it would be nice to know what the Bat clan was up to, especially now that they all knew he was back from the dead. Jason really didn’t want them interfering on this mission, not until he’d killed them all because if anyone deserved to die, it was the fuckers involved in this sex trafficking ring.

            He pulled out his cell phone as he stuck to the back alleys.

            TRH: _Prove it._

            Roy: _How?_

            TRH: _Find me all the information you can on Valerie Neilsen. She’s being investigated by the FBI for Human Trafficking. I want her before they find evidence on her._

            Roy: _I’ll get to work on it. Does this mean we’re good?_

            TRH: _We’re as good as your left leg_.

            He walked down the alley and glanced back once or twice. The melody of a song he’d chosen his words from filling his head. He sang along as he imagined Sean Bixby’s body trying to curl up into the pugilistic position as the flames danced over him. “Now give me that fire,” he sang to himself. “Burn! Burn! Burn! Ghosts and devils come a-calling. Calling my name oh, lost in the fire,” he grinned and then felt the phone in his hand vibrate.

            Roy: _You’re a fucking asshole._

            He inclined his head as if Roy could see him.

            TRH: _But an honest one._

            Roy: _Whatever. I’ll find you the info._

            TRH: _I’ll believe it when I see it._

 

* * *

 

 

Wayne Manor

March 8th

0755hrs

           

            “Morning, Bruce.” Oliver greeted as he took a sip of coffee.

             He’d been up for only an hour himself, his mind somersaulting over the fact that Jason Todd, the second Robin was still alive and of course how it would affect the most prominent member of the Justice League. He had been waiting for Bruce to wake up so that they could talk. He had theories about how Jason was alive, but he wasn’t sure how much, if at all, Bruce would want to talk about it.

             After hearing about the dagger that The Red Hood used and knowing that the League of Assassins had been in and out of Gotham recently; it didn’t take the world’s greatest detective to figure out that The Red Hood was associated with them. If not a member outright. Finding out the man beneath the Hood was Jason, though? That was what really threw Oliver for a loop and he’d been tempted to ask Bruce if he felt it was the Lazarus pit that was responsible for the homicidal urges in his former Robin.        

            Sadly the Justice League, or at least a few of its members, had first-hand knowledge of just how damaging those green glowing pits could be on a person’s psyche.

            Still, Oliver figured it was best to let the grumpy Bat get his coffee, which he did, before he launched into an interrogation of what was going on and why the Hell he and Roy had been included in it. Alfred was at the stove and while the butler took notice of Bruce’s presence in the kitchen, Oliver couldn’t help but note that neither man said a word to each other.

            “Oliver.” Bruce grunted.

            The Star City native didn’t take it personally. Bruce hated people in his home as much as he hated working with anyone who didn’t directly answer to him. Oliver was much the same way and sometimes believed it was why the two were capable of getting along. “Long night?”

            “I planned to speak with you and Barbara last night but it seems someone poisoned my dinner. So, by the time I woke up you were already asleep.” Bruce grumbled as he took a seat at the stool right beside the archer. “Apparently, Wally is in town, too?”

            Alfred didn’t even bother to look ashamed as he started dishing up four omelets. He placed one in the microwave above the stove, handed one plate each to himself and Bruce and then took the fourth plate and walked away. Oliver risked glancing at Bruce to see how he’d respond but the man had a small smirk on his face. He quirked a brow in question.

            “He doesn’t generally choose to eat his breakfast with me the night after drugging my food or drink.” Bruce answered.

            “So you aren’t mad about him talking to Jason behind your back? This is just…tradition?” he asked incredulously.

            “I can’t be mad at him for trying to help a former Robin and ward. I can however be angry over him putting toxic chemicals into my body against my will.” He shrugged.

            “How do you trust the food not to be…?” Oliver really didn’t think it was fair to keep referring to it as poison. Everyone in the house knew that Bruce needed to take it easy and rest. The butler was just looking out for his charge, even if said charge was a brooding vigilante who made criminals wet themselves in terror.

            “He wouldn’t do it twice in a row. He needs to be able to catch me off guard some other time.” Bruce answered with a shrug before taking a bite of his food.

            “So, why’d you tell the boys to let me and Roy know what’s up? That’s not like you. At all.” He insisted before digging into the omelet, still unsure of how to breach the topic he was more interested in.

            “Honestly, I’m in no position to prevent you from discovering the knowledge. Dick was not going to keep it a secret from Roy no matter what I wanted, especially after Roy’s gruesome injury at the hands of… Jason.” He could tell that Bruce emphasized Jason’s name for his own sake but it also sounded a bit more pained than he probably intended. Oliver couldn’t imagine how hard it was to accept that your dead ward was returned from the grave _and_ killing people. “I could have kept it from you, too, but I also felt you had a right to know who attacked Harper.”

            “I appreciate that.” Oliver smiled. “Now what’s the other reason?”

            “Because I knew from Dick’s immediate behavior that he would not remain in the manor, especially when I saw that Wally was in town. If you noticed, Alfred only made four plates. That means Dick, Roy and Wally are no longer here at the Manor.”

            “What?” He felt his eyes widen. He hadn’t noticed that. Damn. He was normally a very observant man, but it honestly hadn’t even registered. And then he understood the rest of Bruce’s unspoken point. “And with Roy safely tucked away with his best friends there is no reason for me to be here to get involved with or interfere in your hunt for Jason.”

            “And they say blonds aren’t very bright.”

            “Oh my God! You just…wow. That ‘poison’ must still be kicking around your system, eh?” Oliver teased back because really, if Bruce was joking around then he just had to get in on it. They both chuckled and continued to eat in silence for several moments before Oliver couldn’t resist. “Are you okay, Bruce? I mean…that’s a hell of a thing to discover.”

            “You don’t actually expect me to answer that, do you?” Bruce replied before taking another bite.

            “No. I guess I just wanted you to know that if you _do_ decide you can handle talking about it, I’m always here. Clark would be, too.” He offered and as expected, Bruce ignored him outright as they continued to eat. There would be no opening provided for them to discuss the Assassins or what had happened and Oliver knew at once that Bruce had likely manipulated the conversation to prevent any such openings.

            The sounds of footsteps pulled their combined attention to the entry behind them as they watched Tim approach.

            “Umm, Bruce? I think,” The boy’s crystal blue eyes fell first to Oliver and then too Bruce. “I think I should get out of Gotham for a bit.”

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah, I mean, I’m grounded anyhow and the temptation to disobey is going to be too great. I might as well leave, get my thoughts back in focus. I’m so far ahead in my studies that I can afford to miss a little bit of school and…” The teen paused as he took a deep breath. “And Dick’s right. I’m too distracted and I’ve been getting hurt because there’s just too much noise in my head.”

            Oliver smiled inwardly as his eyes moved from the red pajama clad boy to his robed colleague and sometimes friend. Bruce appeared both proud and shocked, his steely blue eyes studying his teenage son intently. Did he doubt Tim’s sincerity? Did Bruce have this whole place bugged and was aware of what he and Tim had already discussed? Knowing the paranoid Gothamite, Oliver wouldn’t be surprised either way.

            The fact of the matter was that once again, Oliver felt as if he were invading a moment that he probably shouldn’t be around to be seeing. Getting up and leaving would be even more awkward, so he just settled for observing the scene silently.

            “Where would you go and for how long?” Bruce finally asked.

            “Honestly, I’d be willing to come back whenever you asked. Conner’s been wanting me to spend some time with him.”

            “Metropolis or Smallville?” Bruce responded.

            “Smallville,” came the reply.

             Oliver couldn’t help but grin when Bruce scoffed in disbelief.

            “I promise. Martha doesn’t let Conner in Metropolis during the school year unless it’s Teen Titan business and we have nothing going on right now.”

            “And you expect me to believe that despite being in the middle of all this mess with Jason Todd and Joker, you’re just going to silently leave the city until I call you back, without a fight?” Bruce questioned.

            “Yes.” Tim nodded. “What good am I doing, Bruce? I just keep upsetting everyone. I keep getting hurt, and Dick won’t even speak to me or Alfred right now. I think it’s for the best.”

            Another long silence as Bruce seemed to think on it. Finally, the man simply nodded and Tim smiled before he walked over to the microwave and took out his plate of food. They all three sat in companionable silence until Oliver’s phone had to ruin it. He pulled out the phone that was playing Cat’s In The Cradle and ignored the raised brows of both Tim and Bruce.

            “Well, I figured you’d at least say goodbye,” he answered in lieu of a greeting. “Thanks for that.”

            “Has Bruce talked to you yet?”

             He could hear the distress in Roy’s voice and sighed heavily. “No, Roy. So why don’t you tell me what you’re running from?”

             Bruce’s expression changed from curiosity to instant understanding as he quickly stood and suggested he and Tim move to the dining room to give Oliver some privacy. The archer rubbed his eyes as he realized how bad this was about to be if the two bats weren’t willing to stick around.

            “Look, I’m just tired of being the fuck up, alright? I’m still gonna call you like we talked about if I feel any urges, but I’ve got Wally and Dick here.” There was a brief pause before he heard Roy take a deep breath. “Barbara broke up with me. She thinks I’m not up to her standards because I didn’t immediately call for back-up when I approached The Red Hood. She basically said it was a subconscious desire to join him that kept me from telling Bruce and them what was up.”

            “Any truth to that?” He regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth.

            “Yeah, that right there? That’s why I left without telling anyone. Fuck you, Oliver.”

            That was apparently that. He pocketed the phone and shook his head. He hadn’t quite meant it the way he knew Roy clearly took it, but as was true in the case of most stupid things people said, there was no taking it back now. All he could do was put his dishes away, which he did, and then go back to Tim and Bruce. Which he also did.

            The black haired, blue eyed mentor didn’t appear to be speaking to his protégé any better than Dick had been speaking to Tim or Alfred and he wondered how upset Bruce really was that the boy he considered his son and the man he considered a second father had kept such a disturbing and terrible secret from him. Seeing the awkwardness and feeling the tension assured him that at least with Tim, Oliver’s advice had been sound. Getting Tim away from Bruce and Dick while they were both so angry was going to be best for the teen.

            “So, I have the private jet here in Gotham.” Oliver spoke up, capturing their combined attention. Knowing Bruce was the adult, he made sure he directed the offer to him first. “If you want, I can drop Tim off in Smallville before I head home today?”

            Bruce nodded and then looked to his ward. “Would that be alright with you?”

            “Yeah.” Tim smiled at Bruce as if nothing at all were wrong between them. The teen shoveled in the last few bites before looking back up at Oliver. “I’ll go get my stuff and then when you’re ready we can go.”

            As Tim ran off, Bruce’s eyes fell on him. “He’s going to try to join him.” The Bat’s voice came out, low and steady.

            “You agree with Barbara, then?” he asked with a frown.

            “I think it was always Roy’s plan, Oliver. Even if he wasn’t aware of it, I think he was just waiting for the right time. He’s a lot like Jason was.” Batman said, and it was still Batman speaking. “When cornered, Jason lashed out and did the very things he was often accused of or even tried to prove he wasn’t doing. It’s that ‘if I’m gonna be accused of it I might as well do it’ mentality.”

            “You’re wrong, Bruce.” Oliver denied firmly. “He knows right from wrong. He knows Jason is taking things too far.” He took a deep breath and tried again to reason with Bruce. “Barbara told me The Hood’s kill count. He’s killed nearly ninety people, Bruce. Ninety.  Think about how outrageous that number is. Can you stomach it, because I don’t think Roy could any better than you or me?”

             Oliver knew he was getting defensive, but sometimes Bruce’s holier-than-thou attitude really pissed him off. The leader of the Gotham vigilantes had a way of looking down on the other ‘capes’ and for the most part, Oliver took it in stride. But this time was different. It was Bruce’s ward killing criminals, not Roy. 

            “I guess we’ll just have to see.” Bruce responded in an angered tone that told Oliver he disagreed but wasn’t willing to argue about it any further. “Have a safe trip home, Oliver.”

            Ready to leave himself, Oliver nodded. He knew a dismissal when he heard it, but despite what Bruce thought, he didn’t own Gotham. He couldn’t make Oliver leave until he was ready, and before he left, he had one more stop on his agenda before finally heading on home to Star City and his own villains. Besides, the archer had a feeling that Timothy wouldn’t mind accompanying him, either.

          

* * *

 

 

Bennet Construction

0930hrs

 

            “Hey kid, wake up.” Jason groaned as he felt Harvey kick the chair he was sleeping in. “Your secretary said someone important just came in.”

            He blushed at the realization that he’d fallen asleep in his office again, but quickly hit the page button on his phone that connected him to his secretary. “If it’s Bruce Wayne, tell him to set up an appointment. I’m busy.”

            “It’s uh, it’s not Bruce Wayne, sir. It’s Oliver Queen.” the woman stated nervously.

            “Fuck me,” he growled irritably and ignored Harvey’s confused face. “Give me a second would ya, Babe?” He hoped that didn’t sound as forced as it felt, but he really needed to sell the lie that he and Harvey were a couple; which was why he found himself once again ‘accidentally’ holding the page button down so that the reception area and his secretary could hear it. “Send him in.”

            Oliver Queen walked in, wearing a nice charcoal gray business suit and dark green tie. The blond archer had his shaggy hair slicked back to look tidier than he did while running around his city at night. Jason had to admit he wasn’t surprised Oliver was in town considering Roy had been injured, but really, he hadn’t expected for their paths to cross. He wondered if Bruce had told him about everything. It would certainly be out of character for the Bat to open-up to everyone, but then he hadn’t exactly been himself lately, either.

            “What can I –

            “Let’s just skip the pleasantries, shall we?” Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like playing games, especially with guys like you.” Guess he knew. “Roy didn’t deserve what you did to him, he didn’t deserve your wrath. I have no clue what your end game is or what you are up to and frankly, I don’t care.

            “What I do care about is Roy. I can’t prevent Bruce and the others from engaging in whatever feud you’re all in. I can’t. But I can ask that it not spill into my life or Roy’s. If anything, anything else happens to Roy, I don’t care what you do or who you expose, I’ll kill you.”

            Jason’s eyes widened just a bit at the threat, but in all fairness, he was sitting in front of one of the few Justice Leaguers who used to kill. It wasn’t an idle threat, and Jason wasn’t stupid enough to doubt the man who had a kill count nearly as high as his own here in Gotham. That did not mean that he feared Oliver. There was just a difference between bravery and stupidity; something he clearly needed to teach the Emerald Archer of Star City.

            “Roy does what Roy does, Oliver. You don’t know me and you never did, so don’t ever make the mistake of coming into my space and threatening me.” He postured as he stood, his teal eyes narrowed and his lip curling into a sneer. “Roy got exactly what he deserved. As a matter of fact, he probably got less from me than he would have from you fifteen years ago.”

            “My past is not relevant to this discussion,” Oliver growled.

            “I’ll tell you like I told Dick. Had that dumb-ass tried to stop me _before_ I killed Ryan Murphy, I wouldn’t have engaged. I would have left my sign and run away. Had he not shot me, I probably wouldn’t have harmed him as badly as I did, but that’s not what he wanted.” Jason glared. “He wanted to play both sides of the fence. He wanted Ryan Murphy dead _and_ to bring me in.”

            Neither man spoke for several long seconds, and Jason wondered how Oliver was going to argue any further. He wanted to antagonize Oliver, to get him to attack him, but that wasn’t smart. Not here in JT Bennet’s office. Jason Todd and The Red Hood were not allowed here, even if the archer was trying to get them to come out and play, as well.

            Oliver took a deep breath. “They’re convinced he’ll try to join you. Barbara dumped him over it. He’ll lose his friendship with Wally and Dick if he tries to work with you. Bruce already doesn’t trust him. Don’t do to Roy what you did to yourself.”

            “You fucking- He cut himself off as he realized how loud he was. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tightly while he worked to calm his temper. He was more than grateful for the large desk between him and Oliver Queen, or he’d have probably lunged at him. “What _I_ did to myself? You arrogant son of a bitch, you have no fucking clue what I had to do to come back, to be standing here!”

            “I bet I can guess,” Oliver sneered and only just managed to keep his voice at a normal speaking volume. “Word has spread through the criminal underworld, Red Hood. You gave yourself away with that flashy dagger. The Red Hood has ties to The League of Assassins, and while most might still be in the dark about the rest, I know for a fact how the Assassins make the dead rise again.”

            Jason barked out a laugh as his eyes widened. “You think this is because of _them_?” He shook his head and finally stepped around his desk and approached the tensing man. “The killing, the anger, the bloodshed? You think it’s just a temporary side effect caused by that green fucking slime?”

            “What else could it be?” Oliver challenged and Jason knew the archer was ready to defend himself but wasn’t going to be the one to make the first move, either.

            “I was awake, aware, alive before I got dropped into that fucking pit!” Jason sneered as he pressed close to him. “I fought to the surface, I fought to break free of that Goddamned coffin. You can’t even imagine the despair I felt, the sheer terror of being buried alive or the fucking hatred that burned through me as I realized why I was there.”

            He knew he needed to stop and to back off, he could feel every instinct screaming to do so and to take several steps away, but he’d never spoken of this to anyone. He’d never said the words aloud, not even to the League when they demanded to know what happened. Not to Alfred when he begged him to share his story. And yet, here he was unloading on Oliver motherfucking Queen.

            “Jesus,” Oliver whispered and tried to reach out, but Jason wasn’t having it. He stepped back and growled, like a fucking animal. “Easy, Jason. I…” Oliver dropped his hands and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t fucking touch me!” Jason warned, his chest aching and his mind terrified that was he going to have another fucking panic attack. Think of something else, anything else. “You want to protect Roy from me? Tell him not to fuck with me ever again. He turns on me, he gives me over to the Bats and I’ll…I’ll….I’ll fucking _kill_ him!” he hissed.

            “Hey!” Oliver snapped, any expressions of concern and compassion replaced by temper. “You need to settle down. You need to remember that there are other ways than killing to protect your city and you definitely need to understand that killing Roy makes you no better than Joker.”

            Jason felt his eye brows rise in shock while his jaw dropped just a little at the comparison and realization that Oliver was right. Even if he hated Roy, the man was not worthy of being on his list. His attack on Roy had only been partially justified, but killing him could never be. Even if he got in the way. Even if he betrayed him. He couldn’t kill a good man, he couldn’t become the thing he hated just to make himself feel better. So instead of attacking the archer for his words, he simply took a deep, calming breath.

            “You and I both know that this city is nothing more than a revolving door of pain and misery,” Jason started carefully, his voice steady but he was severely shaken by what he’d just admitted, what he’d said and to whom. “This isn’t just about getting back at the Bat or his side-kicks. This isn’t even about our past. What I’m doing is a calling. It’s something I _have_ to do. Something I believe I was brought back to do. This city is sick and it’s dying and we’re running out of time and the ability to heal it.

            “I don’t want the League of Assassins to do it their way. They’ll wipe everyone out with their bullshit greater good style of dealing with this city. We all know it. So, I’ll do things my way, I’ll kill the bad guys and I’ll return hope to this city, and I guarantee that no matter how many men and women I kill, I’ll be saving five times as many lives in doing so.”

            Oliver sighed at him, and Jason kind of wanted to hit him. “You’ve got the fanaticism down, but I can’t spend any more time arguing your logic. Timmy needs to get to Smallville.”

            He tried to hide the relief in his eyes that Tim was headed out of town, but by the smirk growing on the other man’s face he knew he’d failed. He couldn’t help it, though. He was glad the replacement was getting out of Gotham. The brat had nearly died in his traps how many times? Tim was way too distracted by him and the further he was from Jason the better.

            “Tell that shit I want my jacket back.” He grumbled, suddenly remembering the last place he’d seen his lost coat.

            “Actually,” Oliver grinned, and it amazed Jason how quickly all of The Batman’s friends could just switch between their civilian personalities and their masked ones. “he thought you might bring that up. He told me to tell you that it’s in his closet if you’re brave enough to break into Bruce’s house to get it.”

            “Fucker.” Jason spat.

            “Oh, and I’ll send your company a check to make this whole meeting look legitimate. Can’t risk our identities being exposed.” Oliver smirked and turned to leave but stopped before he got to the door. His expression was once more serious and hard. “Like I said, I can’t stop you. I don’t even want to get involved, but I don’t want to lose Roy. Not to the evil within him or at the hands of a pissed off Red Hood for Roy turning on him.”

            Jason frowned. “I won’t kill Roy. But that’s all I can promise. Even then, if he gets himself on the list by committing one of the big three…”

            “That, I’m not worried about at all,” Oliver assured him. “I trust Roy.”

            “Yeah well, we can’t all be as lucky as Roy.” he spat bitterly.

            “In all fairness Jason, look at where we are. You can’t blame people for distrusting you when you proved their worst fears to be true.” Oliver opened the door so that Jason couldn’t respond. “Good luck with the Burrows Reformation Project, Mr. Bennet. I’m more than happy to help.”

            Jason rolled his eyes and flipped the archer off.

 

* * *

 

 

GCNN Evening News at 18:00hrs

 

            Donald Troy looked into the camera, his face grim and his voice heavy. From their separate homes around the city, viewers knew the routine. Someone had died. Someone always died in Gotham when Joker was on the loose. But unlike the past several years when people prepared for the worst; there was a glimmer of hope that the anchorman’s somber tone meant something better.

            In one messy apartment, Wally and Roy watched from a couch with interest while their acrobatic friend flitted about his home trying to clean up. In a condo not far from Dick’s, a slovenly detective frowned as he glanced at his napping partner. Two of the three viewers watched because they had an idea of what would be reported, while the speedster simply watched because he feared what they would hear next and how it would affect his best friend.

            “Earlier this morning it was reported that a club known to its patrons as “Kinks” burned to the ground. All that was known at the time was that there were two yet to be identified casualties and that both police and fire believed arson and homicide were at play. On location and with more information, we send you to field reporter Sandy Bowers.”

            “Thanks Donald,” Sandy said into the camera, her expression stoic. “As you can see behind me, the club which served the fetish community of Gotham is no more, and why? According to investigators a motivation or person of interest has not yet been identified, but thanks to a picture sent in to GCNN by an anonymous source, we believe it to be the work of the vigilante known as The Red Hood.”

            The detective in his condo rolled his eyes at the dramatics of the news station as the image changed from Sandy Bowers standing in front of a building, to a photograph of the club in flames with a cardboard sign that read: Now give me that fire! Burn! Burn! Burn! – TRH

            “Nice work, Kid.” Harvey grumbled to himself while the snoring Hood twitched at the sound, but didn’t wake.

            Meanwhile, in the apartment filled with young vigilantes, the acrobat finally stopped at the mention of The Red Hood. The archer twitched uncomfortably but it went unnoticed thanks to Dick and Wally exchanging worried glances between one another.  

           “I thought you said he was injured?” Wally asked.

           “When has a Bat ever followed doctors orders?” Roy rolled his eyes.

            “I’m so glad Timmy’s not around for this.” Dick whispered more to himself than to his two best friends.

            “Sandy, do the police know about this image?” Donald’s voice sounded as the image returned to the olive-skinned reporter.

            She nodded as she brushed her curly hair out of her face. “They do have the image as we gave it to them immediately after we received it.” All over Gotham several cops and detectives rolled their eyes or scoffed at what they believed to be a blatant lie. “When I asked Commissioner Gordon if there were any new developments or leads, he declined to comment.”

            Now, an image of Anchorman Donald sitting at his new desk was added to appear side by side with Sandy Bowers. “Outside of attracting attention, is there any more meaning to these signs? We know they seem to be clear messages to Gotham, but is there perhaps hidden meaning?”

            The woman listened carefully to her co-worker’s question before she nodded. “Yes, I did ask Commissioner Gordon about secret codes or meanings to the signs, but he reiterated that he could not make any further comments on any of the ongoing investigations involving The Red Hood or even confirm if they suspect his involvement.”

            “Thank you, Sandy.” The anchorman’s image was once more front and center to those tuning in. His face dropped even further, if that was at all possible before he began speaking. “The mayor and commissioner of Gotham have advised that as per usual when The Joker is on the loose, that citizens remain extra vigilant and cautious”

            In the condominium where Harvey sat, he couldn’t help but frown as he watched JT twitch again at the word ‘Joker’, which incidentally, was being used often during the segment about what to do should you find yourself a hostage or in range of the mad clown. The younger boy’s face contorted into a scowl or maybe a grimace?

            What Harvey couldn’t know was that several blocks away, another former Robin was experiencing a similar reaction to the lengthy conversation about the Clown Prince of Crime. Nor could Dick and his friends know that when audio of the cackling maniac was aired, JT Bennet shouted and got to his feet in a defensive stance, his eyes wide and frightened.

            As Dick wondered what would happen to his family, his friends comforted him. He didn’t want to upset them, but Timmy’s fear of Joker harming Jason was starting to take the forefront of Dick’s mind. Once the anger and shock had finally given way, once he had gone back to his _own_ apartment where he could think properly, all he thought of was The Red Hood and all the tragic ways this nightmare could end.

           Harvey meanwhile, coaxed the angry and frightened young man into sitting back down, but there was something else at play and it scared the detective. JT Bennet was just scared, he was horrified and he wasn’t coming out of his panic induced state, even as he pulled the younger under his arm and gently rubbed his back. He wanted to know what the Hell had happened between JT Bennet, the boy without fear, and the clown, but more than that, he wanted to know how this nightmare would end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok brief end notes…Thank you all for reading. Things are gonna start getting interesting to say the least and really hope you all enjoy the direction it goes. Sorry this took so long to get out but I kept debating on a lot of different pieces so once again, thanks to my new beta [Gwydionx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/pseuds/gwydionx) for keeping me on track and sorted out.


	36. Hope This Helps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short. It's just an interim chapter while I set up the next bit but it is just as important as the chapter "..." . Hope you all like it. Thank you [Gwydionx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/pseuds/gwydionx) for betaing you wonderful person, you! Seriously guys check out her stuff when you get a chance. It's awesome! Though this chapter wasn't actually edited since the first time I gave it a shot so...any mistakes are mine.

March 8th

2247hrs

Bruce’s Private Study…

 

He opened his email from Oliver and was pleased to see that Timothy had arrived safely in Smallville and that Oliver had no intentions of returning to Gotham unless Roy was physically hurt or called him for help. Bruce didn’t hate the man, he just didn’t like any of the other Capes in his city. Gotham wasn’t what they thought and he’d be damned if he listened to a single one of them tell him how to police his city.

His eyes fell to the attachment that was some kind of audio file. Reading back over the email he noticed the post script at the end. Usually with Ollie it was some bad joke so he often ignored them.

_PS, I know you didn’t want me in Gotham to begin with. You don’t want me getting involved in your family affairs and I respect that. I wouldn’t want you in mine either, just so we’re clear. Roy and Dick didn’t exactly permit that, though. So, to make up for your forced sharing of information on this whole situation with Jason, I’ve decided to share with you. Hope this helps. Good luck, Bruce._

He frowned and played the audio.

He heard a man take a deep breath and then speak _“They’re convinced he’ll try to join you. Barbara dumped him over it. He’ll lose his friendship with Wally and Dick if he tries to work with you. Bruce already doesn’t trust him. Don’t do to Roy what you did to yourself.”_

 _“You fucking-_ The voice stalled, the voice of Jason and Bruce could hear the outrage and even a bit of hurt in his voice. There was a brief pause before Jason spoke again at a lower volume. _“What_ I _did to myself? You arrogant son of a bitch, you have no fucking clue what I had to do to come back, to be standing here!”_

 _“I bet I can guess.”_ He heard the challenge in Queen’s voice and knew at once he was trying to antagonize Jason. _“Word has spread through the criminal underworld, Red Hood. You gave yourself away with that flashy dagger.  The Red Hood has ties to The League of Assassins, and while most might be in the dark about the rest, I know for a fact how the Assassins make the dead rise again.”_

 Jason’s laughter was mocking and loud. _“You think this is because of_ them _? The killing, the anger, the bloodshed? You think it’s just a temporary side-effect caused by that green fucking slime?”_

 _“What else could it be?”_ Oliver returned.

 _“I was_ awake, aware, alive _before I got dropped into that fucking pit! I fought to the surface, I fought to break free of that Goddamned coffin. You can’t even imagine the despair I felt, the sheer terror of being buried alive or the fucking hatred that burned through me as I realized why I was there.”_

Bruce’s stomach turned at the enraged and yet vulnerable declaration Jason had just made. The magnitude of what he was describing hit him like a truck and for a moment he couldn’t breathe as he paused the audio. He had to inhale, he had to let his mind process what he’d just heard. He, like Oliver, had obviously assumed that Jason’s body had been exhumed but to hear this? He ignored the fact that his hand trembled as he pressed the play button.

 _“Jesus.”_ Oliver’s voice whispered and was followed by an animalistic sound that warned him against whatever Oliver had tried and at the same time came Jason’s voice. _“Don’t fucking touch me!”_ And then Oliver’s voice again. _“Easy, Jason. I…I’m sorry.”_

 _“You want to protect Roy from me? Tell him not to fuck with me ever again. He turns on me, he gives me over to the Bats and I’ll…I’ll….I’ll fucking_ kill _him!”_ He sounded too desperate, too emotional to be taken seriously by him or Oliver, but he knew Oliver would respond.

 _“Hey!”_ And the man did. He sounded stern but not nearly as angry as Bruce expected. _“You need to settle down. You need to remember that there are other ways than killing to protect your city and you definitely need to understand that killing Roy makes you no better than Joker.”_

Again another long silence came over and Bruce had time to process what he’d heard and how he imagined it would effect Jason. He’d already seen firsthand what comparisons to the mad clown did to the boy. He imagined it had a better effect than past ones though, because when Jason spoke next, he was angered but relatively steady in his words.

 _“You and I both know that this city is nothing more than a revolving door of pain and misery. This isn’t just about getting back at the Bat or his side-kicks. This isn’t even about our past. What I’m doing is a calling. It’s something I_ have _to do. Something I believe I was brought back to do. This city is sick and it’s dying and we’re running out of time and the ability to heal it._

_“I don’t want the League of Assassins to do it their way. They’ll wipe everyone out with their bullshit greater good style of dealing with this city. We all know it. So, I’ll do things my way, I’ll kill the bad guys, and I’ll return hope to this city, and I guarantee that no matter how many men and women I kill, I’ll be saving five times as many lives in doing so.”_

Bruce stared at his computer in horror. He was certainly grateful for the audio, grateful enough to ignore the slight irritation that Oliver had gone to see Jason before he left Gotham. Still, it was a lot to take in, a lot to hear and fully understand.

There were not just the words themselves, but the desperate, bordering zealous tone of a broken mind. Of a broken young man who’d been brainwashed and tortured by the League of Assassins, and worse? The knowledge that something else had happened, somethings unexplainable that left his barely sixteen-year-old son, locked inside of a coffin, six feet beneath the Earth.

His stomach rebelled once more, but he kept the contents down. It wasn’t easy. How could it not be when he really sat and thought about the horrors Jason Todd had admitted to going through? For the first time since his parents died, since Jason had died, he _wanted_ to cry, to give into the humanity within and simply mourn the boy who’d been taken from him and then apparently warped into a remorseless, merciless hunter.

He grabbed his phone instead. “How did you get a hold of Jason’s body?” He demanded when The Demon’s Head answered.

 “Believe it or not, Detective, the boy was found wandering by some of my men, injured nearly beyond recognition, just outside of your estate.” He answered calmly and with no hint of surprise at being called or even questioned.

 “Why didn’t you tell me about him?” Bruce demanded allowing the anger and the threat to overtake any shadow of pain that he might feel.

 “The boy you knew was gone, Detective. It seemed cruel to return him to you knowing he was nothing of the child you described during your eulogy.” He answered emotionlessly while Bruce struggled to maintain the same tone. “I did take the time to train him, though. I didn’t just abandon him to your enemies like I could have.”

 Bruce sneered in disgust. “Because you wanted to know how he’d managed to return from the grave without the benefit of your fountains.”

“That’s true.” Ra’s had the nerve to chuckle. “Though it was a good thing he came to us. The magnitude and amount of injuries he had, would have likely killed him all over again.” Ra’s offered. “The pit didn’t rid him of all of his scars, but it did soften most of them. You could barely look at him when he first came to us without gagging.”

He was being needlessly cruel, and Bruce knew it was Ra’s’ way of taunting him. Taking a deep breath to ease his fury, Bruce exhaled slowly. “Did you send him here? Does he still work for you?”

 “While I trained him no differently than any other inductee, Mr. Todd is a member only in name. I knew he’d eventually leave us and return to Gotham. Native Gothamites seem incapable of leaving that city behind on any permanent basis.”

“Did you discover how he…” He paused, unable to speak the words, unable to imagine them again, because he knew if he tried he’d just hear Jason’s voice and all the pain it brought with it.

“How he escaped death _and_ his coffin?” Ra’s chuckled cruelly. “No. He didn’t know. All he could do was describe what happened and it leant no clues as to what triggered the event.”

Bruce nodded and quickly wiped away a single tear that had dared to fall. “Thank you for the information, Ra’s.” He hung up before the man could respond because he was too close to breaking down and of all the men on this planet, Ra’s al Ghul was the last one he wanted aware that he could feel anything other than that burning need for justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your continued support and reading this story. Some of you have been here since chapter one and others have just joined us. Thank you no matter when you arrived. I'm sorry if I don't get to everyone's comments. I try my best to get to them when I have a chance but thank you for reading and commenting when you can. It means a lot.
> 
> Updated Note 8/3/2017 - Guys I am so sorry the next chapter isn't out yet. Honestly there is so much going on with these characters it has been impossible to write them while I am at work and there has been a surge of overtime due to some unexpected assignments. This fic has not been abandoned or forgotten. I am working 37 but it's taking some time to get my head in a less than distracted place. This story just means to much to me to half ass it, so I am likely not gonna be able to get back to work on it until after the 17th of August. I apologize for the wait and hope you'll all bare with me. Thanks for your time! Please stick around, I promise to do my best to make it worth the wait!


	37. Pried Open Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to the lovely [Gwydionx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwydionx/pseuds/gwydionx) for beta-ing this story. Without here, I would be so damned far behind. Thank you thank you. Sorry this one is so short but I felt I needed to get something out so that you all don't forget this story.

Dick’s Apartment

March 9th

1052hrs

 

             Dick sat quietly on his raised counter top, which acted more as a bar for the stools tucked beneath it, legs crossed under him as he ate his soggy cereal. It was sadly the highest points in his apartment. More and more he wished he’d gone with the condominium that had vaulted ceilings throughout. Then he could have perched himself up on the refrigerator while he did his thinking. Alas, he decided against the outrageous space in favor of a washer and dryer that came with this place.

            He looked up as he heard a painful groan, seeking out the owner of the voice. Roy insisted on sleeping on the couch, but Dick and Wally really worried what that would do to his leg. The stubborn archer really should have taken the bed, but Roy wouldn’t budge when he made a decision.

            “You alright, Roy?” Dick called to the unseen man.

            “Yeah.” He moaned in a tone that said he wasn’t feeling at all okay. “Just…pain,” he grunted irritably.

            “You brought your pain meds?” he asked as he climbed down from the bar with ease and headed into his less messy than yesterday living room.

            “No. Just ibuprofen.” Dick’s crystal blue eyes widened as he looked to Roy. “Fuck you, Dick. Don’t look at me like that. I’m an addict alright, I gotta start weaning off the hard shit sometime.”

            “Yeah, but…” Dick didn’t know why he was about to argue, he completely agreed with Roy. Maybe it was just that he hadn’t expected Roy to be the one to take the initiative. He and Barbara and Wally had all discussed on numerous occasions when and how they would need to get the narcotics out his possession.

            “But nothing, just quit staring at me,” the archer snapped irritably from the couch and Dick grimaced internally when he saw Roy massaging the injured thigh.

            He really did fear for Roy. Not just for his addictions but for his future as a vigilante. Like himself as Robin and later Nightwing, Roy seemed born for the role of Speedy and now Arsenal. The red head took to vigilantism with ease and he was physically capable of adapting as quickly as his mentor, Oliver Queen, had. Roy was strong, intelligent and resourceful.

            There were few non-metas who could keep up in this line of work. Not having powers was a serious disadvantage against criminals with guns, but going up against evil metas? You had to be better than good to fight them off. You had to push yourself to the limits of superhuman just to stay alive. You had to be willing die, sure, but more important than that; you had to be willing to _live_.

            That was what scared Dick when it came to Roy. He knew Roy was willing to fight with this injury. He knew he was willing to train and push himself as hard as he could, but for what?  To meet some ‘glorious death’? However, seeing Roy actively trying to keep away from opiates and other narcotics? It felt like the right step toward choosing to live.

            “You gonna get me some Ibuprofen from my bag or do I have to belly crawl through this mess to get it myself?” Roy rolled his eyes as a soft smile formed on his lips.

            Dick laughed and reached over for the bag that was well within reach of his friend. “Here, you big baby.” He handed him the bag and then went back to the kitchen to grab him a glass of milk. “Don’t dry swallow those pills, either. You’re gonna choke!”

            “Yes, Mother.” Roy raised his voice several octaves to mimic a child, as he snickered from the couch.

            When Dick returned, he handed over the glass and smiled as Wally zipped into the apartment with several bags of food in his arms. “Morning! Figured I’d pick up some breakfast. Got you guys a little food, too what with Dick only having that sugar cereal in his cupboards.”

            “Thank God,” Roy muttered just before tossing back three little brown pills and drinking his milk.

            Before Dick could even respond, a mostly yellow blur flashed all around them until Roy was seated properly before the coffee table. Dick had been set up beside the archer and the living room was completely spotless. Wally wound up on the floor, cross legged in front of them with four or five brown bags, while a plate of breakfast foods was placed before Roy and Dick.

            “I hate when you move me around,” Roy complained but immediately began to dig into his hash browns.

            “Well, I hate when you move slower than a snail,” Wally teased. “So, what’s the plan Dick?”

            “Honestly, I don’t know.” Dick frowned as he started nibbling at his bacon. He knew what he wanted to do, but he was afraid of how his friends would react. It was why his cereal hadn’t made it to his belly. He’d been trying to figure out a way to talk to his friends since he woke up.

            “Liar.” Roy rolled his eyes as he shoveled in another mouthful of food.

            “Yeah. I’m with Roy. You’re too much like Bruce. You had a plan formed last night before you let yourself sleep.”

            “If he’s gone to sleep you mean.” The archer threw in with a knowing smirk. Sometimes, Dick really didn’t like his friends.

            “Well, we have two options,” Dick admitted as both of his friends laughed and ‘I told you so-ed.’ He waited for a couple seconds to allow the red heads a moment to calm down. “As I was saying; we have to two options. The first is that we go after Black Mask and get him out of everyone’s way.”

            “I’m down, but why him?” Roy asked. “Couldn’t have anything to do with a certain white-striped zombie, could it?”

            “Classy.” Wally rolled his eyes with a disapproving frowned.

            “What?” Roy snickered. “It’s just a joke. Dick’s cool with it. Right, Dick?”

            “Do you ever think before you speak?” Wally asked, but Dick could feel his gaze resting on him instead of Roy.

            “I’m fine. It’s fine, Wally. Really.” He nodded as he plastered a smile to his face. “Going after Black Mask doesn’t just protect Jas-JT. It protects Bruce and his company as well. Remember, Black Mask is after everyone involved. He even went so far as to kidnap Timmy.”

            The reminder appeared to do some good as both of his friends quieted. He knew that they would help, but he also knew time was limited with Wally. Not only would he be needed back in Keystone soon, but Bruce would have a coronary if Kid Flash kept working in Gotham.

            “What was your other thought?” Roy asked.

            “I want to get Joker before someone else gets themselves killed going after him.” He wasn’t surprised when both of his friends went still. Roy seemed stoic, less surprised, and to Dick’s shock, completely onboard. He just looked like he was waiting for Dick to tell him how to help.

            Wally on the other hand looked far less convinced. The speedster didn’t appear against it, just uncomfortable. “Are you sure about that? Joker’s already a real pain in the ass and you know how Bruce is about the clown getting close to you guys.”

            “Bruce isn’t in charge,” Dick snapped, feeling old wounds fester. Taking a calming breath, Dick tried again. “Bruce isn’t able to patrol yet. Timmy’s not allowed to patrol and I’m sure Oliver’s gone. That leaves me to defend this city from all threats, _including_ Joker.”

            “Stop lying to us, Dick.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Just admit it, you’re worried he’s gonna kill your brother.”

            “So what if I am?” Dick frowned. “It’s not like I can’t want all three of them locked up. I just want to make the Joker a bigger priority, then Black Mask and then Jason.”

            “Okay, so what’s your plan if we go for Joker over Black Mask?” Roy asked. “Because Joker’s slippery on the worst of nights. Take into account the fact that Jason is going by one of the clown’s old aliases, is someone Timmy insists Joker knows the real identity of, and managed to escape Joker’s death? This clown is going to be next to impossible to find and track down if he’s going after Jason specifically.”

            “Plus, even though he’s injured, Jason clearly isn’t staying inside,” Wally added. “Is he likely to go after Joker?”

            “No, I think he’s got bigger fish to fry on his mind,” Roy answered.

            Dick frowned and knew Wally was staring at Roy with the same questioning gaze. How did he know? What made him think that Jason wouldn’t go after the Joker?

            “Guys, last night he took out a fucking sex club. If he wanted to go after Joker, he would have. Maybe he’s taking on easier kills while he heals. He can’t be dumb enough to take on the clown so soon after being injured by him,” Roy reasoned.

            Dick tilted his head from side to side as he let the notion settle. He had to admit, Roy’s point was consistent with what they knew of The Red Hood. Even when he briefly had a decoy, said decoy was only sent after people who weren’t high profile. It was possible that Jason was saving the harder kills for when he was healthier.

            Timmy’s words haunted Dick as he continued to eat. He told him and Bruce that they had to start seeing The Red Hood as one of them and anticipating his movements like they would their own. The Red Hood didn’t like being down any more than Batman, a Robin or Nightwing. The Hood made the most of his time just like the others would. Sure, he couldn’t fight the Penguins or Mr. Freezes of the world, but he could take out street scum that had little to no experience fighting vigilantes.

            “So then we need to lure Joker to us. If we can put him away before Jason gets a chance, we can save him from himself,” Dick decided.

            “What makes you think Jason would lose?” Wally asked curiously.

            “When Bane beat Batman, it messed with his head,” Dick answered. “Knowing you’ve already lost, that you’ve already failed to defeat someone will work against you. Jason didn’t just lose to the Joker, he died. The last time Jason faced him he was soundly beat and I don’t think it had anything to do with a lack of skill.”

            “Mental block.” Roy agreed with a tight nod. “He’s lost to Joker before he’s even begun.”

            “Exactly.” Dick frowned. “Looking back, I think that’s why Timmy went to the old asylum. He knew from the way Jason behaved at the hospital that he wasn’t ready to face the Joker, and he was right. When I found them, Joker was beating Jay with a crowbar.”

            Wally’s eyes widened while Roy placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder. He appreciated their gestures of support, but Dick didn’t want them to think he was going to break down. After a few hours to let everything settle, he was actually feeling a lot better. He had come to grips with a lot of things that he thought would kill him emotionally, but he persevered and he was going to be okay.

            “It was bad,” Dick admitted. “I don’t know if Joker got a good hit on him or if Jason just outright panicked, but he seemed entirely too still to be in complete control. He looked frozen to me, like he was too afraid to move or…”

            “Maybe he was reliving that moment,” Roy whispered with a frown when Dick couldn’t finish his sentence.

            The speedster shivered. “I know we’ve all had some close calls and we’ve all lived through near death experiences, but I can’t imagine dying is something you want to relive. Especially such a violent death.”

            “Alright, so here’s the deal.” Dick quickly moved to change the subject as much as he could. He couldn’t handle thinking about all of that again. “Bruce is not going to want you here for long, Wally. You know how he is.”

            “Yeah, but I’ve got your back.” Wally shrugged.

            “Roy is injured so he can act as our Oracle. I’ll get you all the access that you need to our systems,” Dick continued as he looked to Roy. “You okay with that?”

            “Not like I have much of a choice,” Roy grumbled.

            “So what we need to do is find Joker first, once we’ve done that we haul him back to the asylum and then Jason’s safe for a little longer. Too bad that’s all easier said than done.” Dick frowned when he felt his phone vibrate.

            Alfred: _Turn the news on, NOW!_

             

* * *

 

Bennet Construction

1132hrs

 

            Harvey watched as JT Bennet returned to the office and handed over a piss cup and a paper to each of the three men sitting in front of him. “Head on down to the bathrooms where Security’s waiting. They’ll tell you the procedure, but it’s pretty basic. Piss in the cup, if it’s clean, you’re hired. Dirty? You’re out.”

            All three men nodded and left the office, a few side-eying Harvey curiously as they did so. They probably didn’t know who he was or why he was there, but Harvey didn’t actually care. He was more interested in whether or not the dip shit sitting at his desk had busted his stitches open again.

            All morning long he’d been watching JT jump up and greet applicants, show them around, interview them and then send them down to the security detail he’d hired. They were going to be here all fucking day while the young millionaire interviewed and hired as many workers as he could for the project.

            “You still got managers. Why aren’t you letting them do the hiring?” Harvey asked.

            “I don’t have time for their fuck-ups or slip-ups. I need good men who aren’t afraid to work or defend themselves,” the kid answered with a shrug. “The managers and supervisors aren’t from Gotham. They don’t know what kind of questions they should be asking or what kind of men and women they should be looking for.”

            Harvey definitely understood that and so he nodded to indicate that he did. People always thought Gotham’s nightlife was exaggerated, that it wasn’t as bad as the news tried to make it seem. It was probably worse. To work in Gotham you had to be tough, you had to know if you could handle coming in to work every day knowing that your life just might be in danger. Especially for a big project like this. The security probably helped, though.

            “Besides, I don’t want any of them accidently hiring from Black Mask’s crew,” JT added a few minutes later.

            “How can you tell?”

            “I can’t always, but I’d rather trust my instincts since I have a vague idea of what I’m looking for than allow my guys to go into it blindly. With my luck, the whole damn crew would end up working for him and then I’d probably wind up dead along with you and everyone else in my company.”

            “You’re a real ray of sunshine, aren’t ya.” Harvey frowned.

            JT actually laughed. “I’m just trying to make a point, Bullock.” He stood from his desk and as he stretched to put his coat on, Bullock caught just a few red dots on the man’s blue button up where the knife wound was. When JT realized what Harvey was staring at, the punk had the nerve to roll his eyes at him. “I’m fine, Harvey, it’s just a little blood.”

            Harvey shook his head, not at all believing him. They might not be so good at the whole physicality of their fake-relationship yet, but they definitely had the nagging and bickering down. Actually, it was kind of nice having this going with the kid. Maybe not the whole gay thing, but definitely the companionship part. It was nice having a friend he could have a beer and a decent conversation with. Not to mention, having the kid on his arm got him far more attention than he would have thought from women.

And not all of it was censuring!

            “Maybe if you’d stop carrying a hundred pounds of groceries into the condo you’d let the damned wound heal!” Harvey pointed out and received another eye roll in response. He smirked as JT approached him and his office door. “Where you taking me for lunch?”

            “Diner. Gotta be back for a security meeting in less than an hour.”

            “Why not just order food then?” He shrugged.

            “Cause I want the fuck out of this trailer before I snap and kill the next person who speaks to me,” JT answered with a smirk.

            “That a dig at me? What the Hell else am I supposed to do?”

            “You could stay home and quit following me around like a damned puppy.” The younger grinned and opened the office door.

            “Hey screw you, it’s because of you that I got suspended in the first place. Besides, what part of ‘your life is in danger’ do you not understand? I’m not letting you wander this city while Black Mask is after you.”           

            They both nearly jumped as the receptionist ‘awed’ them. Honestly, Harvey had forgotten about her and clearly, JT had to if his response were anything to go by. Harvey nearly slapped JT’s hand away when it took hold of his. Luckily, the woman at the desk didn’t seem to notice the near-miss. “I’m going on lunch, Sharon. We’ll be back in time for the security meeting.”

            “Sure you will, Mr. Bennet.” The middle-aged woman smiled. Harvey was aware that this was technically the seventh secretary JT had to hire since the project started.

            “Watch the sass.” JT winked and interlacing his fingers with Harvey’s. “See you soon.”

            Harvey rolled his eyes and let his ‘boyfriend’ lead him out of the trailer. They walked hand in hand down the sidewalk toward the diner that was just down the road. It wasn’t the best place for high quality food, but it was clean and that was just as important to the cop. He’d been back in the kitchen of plenty of places and so far, Lou’s Diner was one of the cleanest. Probably helped that the man was as anile as a crack addict in need of something to do.

            They walked into the place a few minutes later and took their seat in a corner booth. As usual, JT took the back seat so that he could see the entrances and have his back against a solid wall. Harvey was just about to take the bench across from the kid, when JT quickly jumped out of his seat and waved him along.

            Oh, right.

            “Sit next to me, babe.” JT smirked knowingly.

            “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” This was part of that whole getting comfortable thing they’d been working on. He slid into the corner of the booth and then let the younger man scoot in next to him before he threw his left arm over the back of the seat, effectively putting an arm around the kid without actually having to touch him.

            “Remember we gotta do this unless you want to try going with the bodyguard thing,” JT mumbled as he grabbed a menu and took a look at it.

            Harvey rolled his eyes but pulled his smart phone out of his pocket and started checking his emails. He may have been suspended but on occasion he was still contacted by the people who were taking over his cases.

            “That’s impossible at this point, Kid. Not only would I have to explain what you were doing practically naked in my room, but I’d have to explain where your clothes were and why I hid them.” He was sure he’d explained this to JT more than once now. “You changing your mind, JT? Decide you no longer want me as much as you did when you were a teen?”

            A soft blush touched the kid’s cheeks and that made Harvey feel warm inside. He knew he wasn’t an ugly man, but it certainly boosted his ego to know that a young guy, hot enough to be a supermodel, was into him.

            “Not at all. I just don’t want you to feel…forced or uncomfortable,” JT answered, his eyes staying focused on the menu.

            Harvey rolled his eyes. “Shut up. If I was uncomfortable-,”

            “You’d swat my hand away?” JT grinned as he turned to face Harvey. “We have to get better at this man. We have to.”

            “I know.” He knew the kid was right. So far, most people were too shocked to question it, but once that wore off? He and Bennet would be sitting ducks. They needed to really up their game and that likely meant getting a lot more physical with one another. “Just gotta practice, right?”

            “Right.” JT smiled, seeming far too amused with their conversation.

            “Ok, so we’ll practice.” Harvey decided in a soft voice. “I’ll, uh, I’ll lean in and kiss you, okay?”

            JT laughed openly and then whispered, “I don’t think you’re supposed to warn me that you’re coming in for a landing, Detective.”

            While the kid was busy snickering to himself, Harvey grabbed the sides of his face gently and pressed their lips together. At first JT startled, but then Harvey felt a tongue slide into his mouth and he nearly pulled back in surprise as the kid got really into it, his body moving closer to Harvey’s.

            “Ahem.” They both looked up at whoever had just cleared their throat.

           

* * *

 

            Bruce saw red when he watched Harvey Bullock kiss Jason Todd. Even if Alfred was right and it was all just a cover, it didn’t change the fact that Harvey was far too old to be…Bruce shook it off and approached the _couple_ with Lucius Fox by his side. He needed to focus on Jason, learn as much about his alter ego JT Bennet while he still could.

            He caught the way Jason nearly climbed into the older man’s lap and again, he felt a violent urge to maul Harvey. Instead, he cleared his throat. The detective appeared surprised while Jason, of course, looked pissed off at being interrupted.

            “Mr. Wayne,” Jason greeted.

            “Lucius and I just stopped by your offices but we were told you headed here for lunch,” he explained. “Mind if we join you?”

            Even if Jason wanted to tell him off, he couldn’t. They agreed not to ruin or damage JT Bennet’s company, but seeing as they were in business together, it would be well within the agreed upon rules for Bruce to back his company out if he was rudely snubbed by Bennet. Jason’s company would crumble and he doubted that was something the murderous vigilante could afford.

            “Of course not.” JT forced a smile and then looked to Lucius. “Good to see you again, Mr. Fox. Thanks for recommending Pendleton Security Services.”

            “We’ve never had a complaint about them.” Lucius smiled as he got into the booth first so that he was sitting across from Harvey.

            Bruce sat in front of Jason and their eyes met briefly. Jason looked angry and uncomfortable, while Bruce knew he appeared just as calm and stoic as ever. He could see the youngest at the table trying to figure out what he should do or say, but honestly, that wasn’t what Bruce was interested in.

            His steely blue gaze fell on Harvey. The detective seemed unaware of his being watched for several seconds, before his dingy blue eyes made contact. He had never fully understood Jason’s attraction to Harvey Bullock. The man wasn’t ugly by any means, but he wasn’t what you would call a heart throb either.

            Harvey shifted and it took concentrated effort for Bruce not to sneer at him. The GCPD Detective looked extremely anxious, a bit uncomfortable. From what he knew of Harvey, the man wasn’t at ease around the rich and he especially didn’t like the Wayne family. He felt like they were untouched by the filth and corruption of Gotham. If he only knew…

            “Did you hire Detective… Bullock was it? Did you hire Detective Bullock as a personal bodyguard, JT?” Bruce asked if only because he knew it would annoy both men, especially as he leveled his steely blue eyes back on Harvey.

            “No,” JT responded. “If you couldn’t tell when you walked in, he’s my boyfriend.”

            “I see.” Bruce frowned. “To each their own, I suppose. Though I have to admit, even _I_ would be wary of going for a woman half my age. Must be quite uncomfortable with the looks people give you.”

            “Yeah the comments aren’t any better,” Harvey retorted. “Good thing JT and I don’t really give a damn.”

            “Why don’t you worry about Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake. They’re your wards; not me,” JT snarled angrily and if he wasn’t mistaken, with a touch of hurt.

_“Ladies and Gentlemen of Gotham City!”_

             Bruce’s eyes widened as the entire diner fell silent. All eyes moved to the two different television sets that were normally set on GCNN. Joker stood before the camera, his typical smile wide and never forced. _“It’s been so long since we last played, and since there’s someone new in the neighborhood, I thought I’d give him the welcome he truly deserves.”_

            Harvey’s hand was atop Jason’s in a heartbeat, and Bruce tore his focus from the television screen to Jason’s face. At once he didn’t see the hardened serial killer sitting at a diner table. He saw a visibly pale thirteen-year-old boy with thick sweaty black hair and large blue-green eyes, whose shoulders shook as he sat up in bed. The teen was gasping for air and looking about him wildly, as if expecting someone to come from the shadows.

            Bruce shook off the superimposed image of his memory and compared it to the current Jason. The younger man’s left hand was being held tightly by Harvey, who genuinely looked afraid for the boy. Jason, meanwhile, was blanched and his eyes were wide and still somehow angry, his free hand trembled on the table as his breathing seemed forced and controlled in a manner that indicated he was fighting a panic attack.

            This was not the bold, confident Red Hood who wanted to kill Joker. This was simply Jason Todd. One of Joker’s countless victims who was as frightened of the mad clown’s presence as anyone else would be. It startled Bruce to see this type of reaction from Jason, especially in public and yet, how else could he react? Bruce couldn’t stare any longer at him, so he averted his gaze back to the television screen.

            Joker had gone off on some narcissistic monologue that implied Gotham simply couldn’t exist without him. Now however, the camera followed him to a young man tied down to a simple wooden chair. The hostage looked to be a teenager with long black hair and light eyes that could have been green, grey or blue. He was clearly homeless as he was covered in filth and his clothing was tattered. Bruce frowned, realizing the teen could have been any of his Robins, but most likely was meant to resemble one in particular.

            _“This is a message, a message to you all that I haven’t yet begun to play my games!”_ The Joker snarled as he moved off camera, the boy staring up in horror. Metal slapping an open palm sounded before the clown returned and even Bruce felt his stomach turn at the sight of a crow bar in Joker’s hand.

He started to rise, started to… To what? He couldn’t get up and save him. Not right here. Not without his suit. His hands fidgeted in his pockets for his cell phone, as he watched the screen closely. He had to find something, anything. If he couldn’t excuse himself from this situation, he had to get what he could to bring that mad man to justice. 

            “Turn it off!” Harvey shouted, pulling everyone but Jason out of their own fears of what they were about to see. “Turn off the fucking TVs now!”

            For a moment, Bruce wondered if Harvey knew what had happened to Jason, but he quickly understood. Harvey would have demanded the television be turned off regardless of what his boyfriend were going through. There were children in this diner and they especially didn’t need to see some teenager being murdered on live television. No one did.

            As a waitress ran into the back, Bruce’s fingers clenched tightly around his phone as Joker struck the teen in the face and chest with the crowbar. The Clown’s high pitched laughter not quite managing to drown out the teen’s screams. Bruce once more had begun to rise until he caught sight of his former ward. Jason hadn’t moved, but was frozen even as Harvey grabbed the sides of his face and turned him so that they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“Right here, Kid, right here.” He said softly, his hands moving to cover Jason’s ears. “Just look at me and only me, okay.”

            The TV’s were finally shut off as the waitress returned but not before a sickening crunch followed another hit to the back of the captured teen’s head. _“No one steals my spotlight! No one! I AM GOTHAM! I AM-”_ Joker growled before the flat screens went black and silent.

            Bruce’s eyes moved once more to Jason who didn’t move, who didn’t even seem to be breathing, his eyes still focused on the screen as if he could see what the Joker was still doing. Slowly the diner came alive with shocked conversation and even a few tears from adults and children alike at the horrifying display of murder and violence they’d all just witnessed. Still, Jason didn’t move.

            “It’s okay, Kid,” Harvey whispered gently. “It’s okay.”

            When had Jason curled in enough to be pulled under the detective’s arm? Bruce couldn’t help but recall once more the boy’s panic attacks when he first came to live with them. Jason had likely never had a decent night’s rest after his step-mother died and he’d been forced onto the streets, and several times Jason woke up screaming or shouting. Alfred and Bruce had done all they could in those days to calm him, to remind him that he was safe and he wondered if perhaps Harvey could have handled this a little differently.

            Jason needed a strong hand on his shoulder with a hard squeeze to pull him out of his own head. He needed a firm voice to remind him that he was in a safe place and that he needed to start breathing before he passed out. In the past, Jason would take a shuddering breath and then look up at Bruce with a bright red face that hinted at embarrassment. He’d then drop his head into the center of Bruce’s chest, both to hide and to settle himself, possibly wipe a few tears away discreetly.

            That was how Harvey should have been handling Jason now, but it wasn’t. Harvey was whispering softly, gently to him and it wasn’t working. It was too soft an approach for the way Bruce had attempted to raise the boy. Jason needed someone to take control, especially after witnessing someone being killed the same way he had been. Bruce couldn’t just let him suffer, and yet he knew Jason would not want his help.

            “The clown tried to kill him, recently,” Harvey explained, mistaking the way Bruce stared at him. “He’s been-”

            “Don’t,” Jason whispered and his hand quickly and softly covered Harvey’s mouth. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just get out of here.” He stood and waited for the detective to slide out of the booth and Bruce knew he had to act.

            Before they could leave, he quickly stood, moved to Jason’s side and then gripped the boy’s shoulder firmly. Bruce looked him directly in the eyes and nearly flinched when he saw the raw fear directed toward him. It was no different now than it had been when Jason woke with nightmares. “Breathe, now.” He ordered and JT did. “You are safe, you have nothing to fear, do you understand? Harvey and your team will not let you down.”

            Jason’s eyes fluttered a bit and then at once, his head dropped and fell into the center of Bruce’s sternum, the muscle memory still there even after all these years. The young man nodded his white striped head without looking up, no doubt ashamed and embarrassed. “Thanks…Bruce,” he muttered quietly. “I need to leave.”

            Harvey and Jason left the diner quickly as Bruce surveyed the damage Joker had done to the other patrons. For the first time since he he’d learned of Jason’s fate, Bruce wanted nothing more than to comfort him. He wanted to take him back home and protect him like he should have done before the Joker got a hold of him.

            Taking a deep breath, he looked back toward Lucius who stared up at him sympathetically. Bruce knew what he had to do, but it wouldn’t be easy. Not with a city full of young adult vigilantes chasing after the same goal. He had to get to Joker though, before any of them, before the clown took Jason away all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a Connor and Tim scene coming, I promise. I sincerely hope you all are enjoying this story and that you'll continue to read it as we continue to progress. Thanks as always for reading and supporting this story.


	38. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I am so very sorry I was over a week late, but I just couldn't get a scene to work. My beautiful, wonderful, funny, bad ass Beta and I went over it again and again and again. It was crazy, I tell ya! Anyhow, a million thanks to Gwydionx and my roommate for all your help. Don't know where this story would be without either of you! 
> 
> Also, thank you for the comments. Several of you have inspired this story in many ways on numerous occasions! Hope you like it.

The duo crossed the street quickly, heading straight for the relocatable trailer offices of Bennet Construction. Bruce watched them from his seat in the limousine that Alfred was driving. He pulled out his phone and contacted Barbara. She answered on the first ring, her voice sounding calm and ready for instructions as always. He wasn’t at all surprised that she was up on current events.

“We’re heading straight for the manor now,” he informed her.

“Just promise me you’re not going out there,” Barbara implored. “You’re not ready for a fight with a mugger, let alone someone like Joker.”

“Trust me, I am well aware of my current limitations. Get our contacts in the GCPD organized and send them out as fast as you can. If we can get a police presence out there, it should prevent The Hood from going after Joker,” he replied as he pulled up the network from his own data-pad.

“And Nightwing?” She must have thought he’d forgotten about Dick because he hadn’t mentioned him.

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to prevent him from making an attempt. He has Kid Flash in town, and Arsenal. While I don’t want him anywhere near Joker, I also know he’s the most capable physically and mentally to deal with this situation.”

Barbara didn’t say much more after that, but he could hear her contacting dispatch and he could see the updates she was making. Alfred was silent, but his concerned blue gaze kept finding Bruce’s from the rearview mirror. Lucius was also connecting himself to the network in the seat beside the butler, likely ready to assist with his array of gadgets if necessary.

“Uh, Batman…” Barbara frowned. “Robin’s on the network and his folder is open. He’s adding a lot of information and I think Arsenal is piggybacked onto the network through him as well.”

“We’ll just have to let it be for now.” Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his head ached. It wasn’t like Tim was actually there and trying to help. He was safe and sound in Smallville, far from Joker and Jason. He couldn’t blame him for getting in on the investigation remotely. He’d likely have done the same thing were Bruce in the teen’s shoes.

“Robin has a location on where the hacking took place.” Barbara frowned. “This feels wrong, Batman. It’s way too easy.”

He could tell by the notes that were coming across his screen that Tim and Roy agreed. Neither Roy nor Tim were bothering to hide their presence as they kept adding their own notes, thoughts, and sources of information to the network. The constant messaging and page refreshes were starting to make his temples ache. He could try making the font size larger, but even he knew he was too stubborn to make anything easier on himself.

“Here.” Lucius caught his attention as the older man handed him a set of a headphones. “Oracle, go ahead and allow entry to the audio communications system and hang up. There’s no reason to be racing toward the same goal when we can assist one another to reach it safely.”

As soon as everyone was linked in, Bruce was able to hear everything that the others wanted known. Strangely, hearing two or three voices at once wasn’t nearly as painful as attempting to read the constant flow of information in size 11 Times New Roman font. He’d have to thank Lucius privately for his foresight and concern.

“Nightwing, keep to the alley ways. GCPD is headed down main street now,” Roy announced. “Kid Flash if you’ve already arrived, do not engage until Nightwing can back you up.”

Bruce wasn’t at all surprised to hear that Wally was at the location, waiting impatiently for his partner to arrive. He was however, surprised that Wally hadn’t just brought Dick with him to prevent a wait. He had hoped Wally and Roy would stay out of Gotham business, but he knew them both well enough by now to realize that neither were intimidated by a crippled Batman. Another reason he didn’t want the other capes around.

“Anyone see The Hood?” Tim’s voice came next.

“No. He has a civilian with him,” Bruce hadn’t meant for the word ‘civilian’ to sound so disgusted, but he couldn’t deny how displeased he was to see Harvey and Jason making out when he and Lucius arrived at the diner. “I don’t think he’ll get out quick enough to get involved.”

“Only if we’re fast enough,” Nightwing commented. “This is a daylight mission and we’re all having to be extra careful not to be seen. He won’t worry about that like we will.”

“We’ve run plenty of missions while the sun’s up, Nightwing. Just stay focused on what you’re out there to do. Worry about The Hood _if_ he shows up,” Bruce stated.

“This is _so_ gonna be a trap,” Roy muttered and there was distinct clicking sound in the back ground. Normally Bruce didn’t mind, but with his head hurting, it was beginning to grate on him a bit. Especially since it was likely Barbara, Roy and Tim typing all at once.

“I’ve done about twelve perimeter checks and I’ve got nothing, Arsenal. Don’t be such a worry wart.” Wally finally spoke up and yet again, Bruce found himself resenting the presence of other vigilantes in his city. Wally’s blasé attitude was going to get himself or someone else killed.

“Kid Flash, don’t be so sure. Joker isn’t going to make any booby traps obvious to the untrained eye,”  Tim reminded. “You aren’t used to dealing with the clown. Something might not stand out to you that would to us.”

“Shit, uh, guys? If he’s replicating Robin the Second’s death, doesn’t that meant there’s gonna be an explosion?” It was evident by the dip and fear in his voice, that Roy was afraid of what he’d just stumbled upon, and he wasn’t wrong.

“Kid Flash, Nightwing, get away from the building! Oracle make sure the police send the bomb squad before they enter!” Bruce ordered. How could he miss such an obvious trap? He’d never admit it aloud, but his team was right. He was not ready to be back in the field if he couldn’t even remember such an important detail.

Oracle was heard calling off the police and warning them to get the bomb squad in route. Bruce rubbed at his temples as he listened to Dick and Wally acknowledge that they’d moved back and away from where they’d been so sure Joker would be. But Joker wouldn’t be there! No, he’d be somewhere close by to watch, just as he had been with Jason.

Bruce was about to ask Wally and Dick what was around the location when Roy beat him to it. “Guys, what buildings are around you now? Buildings that would have a good view of the explosion?” The archer sounded nervous and unsure of himself. “There isn’t by chance a, uh… uh…”

“Spit it out Arsenal!” Kid Flash snapped impatiently.

“It’s hard to explain! You need to look for something that’s not obvious until after the fact! Like a circus tent, or a something with a clown logo, or just something… you know…Jokery?” As Roy tried to explain, Bruce couldn’t help but worry about Roy’s taking the lead on this or his information on Joker and Jason’s death.

“Dude, there’s nothing like that, Arsenal,” Kid Flash added.

“Yes, there is! Look over there.” Nightwing must have been pointing, which meant they’d caught up to each other by now and were still close to the building that was likely rigged to blow. “It’s an old dentist’s office.”

“A dentist’s office?” Wally doubted.

“Trust me. It was called Smile Wide and look at the logo, it’s a big giant smiling mouth,” Nightwing explained. “No way Joker passes up a hideout like that.”

“Oh wow, kind of obvious now, isn’t it?” Wally snickered. “Well, let’s get him before the cops show up.”

Once again, Bruce was about to issue a warning when Roy came over the line. “Beware of land mines and tripwires.” Bruce frowned. Oliver had been wrong about Roy, so very wrong. “They won’t all be explosives, but they’ll be loud enough to forewarn him that you’re coming.”

Bruce looked down at a private message that came from Barbara. _The information could have come from his talks with Nightwing or even the current Robin; you don’t know that he’s talking to The Red Hood._

_Oracle, if it was Robin, why didn’t he say it? You had the same thought, it’s why you contacted me._

_Maybe we’re both wrong._

_As I told you before, your instincts are rarely off, Oracle._

A loud explosion rocked the area, Bruce could hear it over Wally and Dick’s headsets. He kept his heart rate normal and waited patiently for them to check in. He couldn’t hear a single click of keyboard keys. Lucius too, was perfectly still while Alfred continued driving as if they were listening to something as trivial as a book on tape.

The first noises heard were from Barbara as she started interacting with dispatch. Thankfully, the bomb squad had not arrived in time and as far as anyone knew, there were no police casualties. The question would be how many others would be injured. Even if most of the businesses were closed down, it didn’t guarantee that the buildings were empty, and knowing Joker, they likely weren’t.

Just as Bruce was about to give in and call for Dick or Wally, the radio crackled. “We got him,” Dick stated in obvious relief. “We have Joker.”

“Oracle, we’re gonna need several busses and the bomb squad to come out and check for any duds or hidden surprises,” Wally added.

Bruce took a deep breath and released the tension within himself. He was surprised and pleased at how much better he felt knowing Joker wasn’t running free in Gotham. There was of course the small swell of shame and disappointment that he hadn’t been able to help, that once again he’d failed to get the bomb disabled before more lives were lost. He could feel old memories rising and he forcefully pushed them aside.

“So that’s it. Joker’s captured again?” Tim asked.

“For now,” Roy grumbled. “See you guys when you get back. Oh…and K Flash? Don’t let the police forget to remove that flower in his pocket or any jewelry.”

 

* * *

 

Jason walked into the trailer and quickly moved for his office as he pulled out his cell phone. He had to get out there and he had to beat them to the Joker. There was no way he was going to let that fucking clown just sit in a cell after what he just saw. He knew that Bruce would do what he could and it was also pretty likely that Dick and Wally would too.

He texted Roy; _Now’s your chance to prove yourself._

“Mr. Bennet, you have Pendleton Security waiting for you in conference room B.”

“Like I got time for that shit.” He snarled, intent on ignoring her and Harvey as he pulled out the keys for his door, his eyes glued to his phone, waiting for a response. He needed Roy’s help because he knew that Barbara, Tim, Alfred and Bruce would be much faster at finding Joker and his victim. If Roy could get him the information that the Bat team gathered, he’d able to avoid them and kill Joker.

“Hey, Kid.” He froze at the sound of the thick Australian accent, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the deep timber of the man’s voice. “I didn’t think you’d be too busy to meet with your security detail?”

“Motherfucker.” He whispered to himself and slowly turned to face the tall, and imposing Maori warrior. “Mr. Wilson, I wasn’t aware you were in the corporate security field?”

Jason couldn’t help but look over the man carefully. As usual when he was among the populace, Slade Wilson was dressed in a nice suit, this one being charcoal gray with a silver tie. He definitely had a shoulder holster and some knives up his sleeves at the very least, but they were concealed of course. His short black hair was sprinkled with a bit of salt near his temples and somehow, that stupid fuck managed to make a damned eye patch look completely professional! Jason could only hope that if he were ever injured in such a way that he could carry himself so imperiously that people hardly noticed it.

“Just purchased Pendleton Security the other day as a matter of fact.” Slade smiled, but didn’t show his teeth. “As soon as I saw your name, I knew I just had to reach out personally to make sure you were safe.”

From the corner of his eye, Jason caught Harvey turning red. He glanced over at him to make sure the detective was alright. Harvey looked, uncomfortable, possibly confused. He knew something else was going on, but he didn’t have any clue what. It was evident that he was questioning how they knew each other, and it made sense. They could be enemies, partners, friends, lovers, rivals…They could be any of them, but honestly, they’d been all but two.

Or at least he hoped two. Actually, it was more like he assumed two, because no one survived being Slade Wilson’s enemy. No one.

“Hey Babe, why don’t you wait for me in my office. I really do need to take this meeting.” Jason didn’t wait to see if Harvey listened or not because he was already walking Slade back to Conference Room “B”.

His cell phone buzzed. _Everyone is helping Dick and Wally find Joker._

“Been a long time, Kid,” Slade announced once the door was closed. He took a seat at the head of the table that was available, making it clear what he thought of their ranking.

“Some might say it wasn’t long enough,” Jason retorted as he took a seat on the man’s right side. He wasn’t worried about dick measuring. Doing so with this man would likely lead to someone’s death, and since Slade was one of his teachers, he wasn’t arrogant enough to assume which that would be. “Why are you here, Slade?”

“Couple reasons. Normally, this would be a professional courtesy to let you know I’m in the neighborhood.” The most lethal mercenary and assassin in the business looked calm and relaxed, which was deceptive, so fucking deceptive. This man was always ready to pounce and had given nearly every cape or meta on both sides of the line a run for their money.

“Normally? So, what is it this time?” Jason demanded.

“I received a request for a quote on your head,” Slade answered with a look that was pure ice.

“Which one, JT Bennet or The Red Hood?” It might seem trivial, but it wasn’t. Both personas’ deaths could be faked to reasonable degrees if necessary, but one might fuck the other over more. Despite what everyone might believe, he really wanted JT Bennet to survive long enough to do some good in Gotham. Even if it was just fixing one shitty neighborhood.

There was a long silence. Slade loved playing with his food. He was very much a cat and mouse kind of guy despite all claims to the contrary about professionalism and efficiency. “He wanted The Red Hood dead, but there was the promise of a second contract to wipe out JT Bennet immediately after.”

“Let me guess,” Jason sneered in disgust. “Black Mask?”

“Bit surprised he’s still alive, Kid. Wasn’t your goal to come out here and kill them all?” Slade chuckled, clearly mocking him.

Jason was about to retort when his cell phone buzzed. _They’re heading to Anderson Street. Dick says it’s mostly abandoned. Wally already there._

Fuck. He glared down at his phone and then looked up at Slade. “Yeah well, I have a lot of distractions I’m dealing with right now. You offering to help or are you here to collect your money and leave?”

He frowned and glared at his phone as he realized what’s he’d just read. Wally was already there? Fuck! _Hey moron, if the clown blew up the warehouse I was in WTF you think he’s gonna do to this one?_

“More distractions?” Slade questioned, and thankfully he didn’t sound angry. More amused than anything else.

“Just…”

“Clown’s on the loose? Yeah I heard he’s the one Black Mask went with after I sent in my quote.” Slade finally flashed his white teeth at him. “Guess he’s gonna have no choice but to come to me, now though. Caught the show. Any idea what that was about?”

Fuck Slade Wilson, he knew damned well what it was about. Fuck him for knowing the identity of nearly every vigilante on the planet and fuck him for knowing intimate details about his life, death and re-life! He gritted his teeth behind a phony smile. This was about money. It had to be. That’s all it ever was about for Slade, at least when it came to Jason.

“How much?” Jason snapped irritably as he texted Roy once more.

 _Dude, Jokers gonna be watching from somewhere Jokery. He won’t be in the same place the body is._ He honestly didn’t know why he was helping. Maybe it’s because he knew that if they didn’t get the clown, he’d target someone else again.

“I quoted him five million.” Slade answered smoothly, his one dark eye watching Jason closely.

Jason nearly choked. “Five mil— Are you fucking kidding me?” He snapped loudly as he stood from his seat angrily. Admittedly that was a poor reaction, especially considering he had a gun pressed to his forehead and his back was now against a wall. He ignored both for a moment as he looked down at his phone and quickly texted Roy. _Something to do with clowns or circuses._

“You’re not taking this seriously enough, Kid.” Slade snarled, likely insulted by the fact that he was taking a time out from worrying about being pinned to a wall by the throat with a gun to his head.

“Unless you want Dick Grayson splattered across Anderson Street, then I’m gonna keep texting my contact.” Jason snickered the moment he saw that lone eye sharpen just a fraction at Dick’s name. “And I admit, jumping up was a bad move, but come on Slade. Six million dollars? Are you fucking crazy?”

When Jason was released he did his best not to make a show of checking his stitches. He honestly forgot how fucking fast and strong Slade was. If he wasn’t dealing with Joker and Roy at the same time as Slade, he wouldn’t have.

“You’re lucky I didn’t do worse when you continued playing with your phone,” The Terminator hissed, his eye focused on the very item he complained about. “I taught you better than that, Kid.”

Raising his hands in the universal “I mean you no harm” position, Jason couldn’t help but a smirk a bit. “You taught me about explosives, guns and other weaponry, with an emphasis on guns. That’s it, Slade. It’s not like I was your apprentice.” Not surprisingly, Slade Wilson was one of many who preferred the original Robin to Jason when it came to teaching and bonding. It used to hurt. Now it just chafed at his pride a little bit.

“Still whining about everyone loving Dick better than you.” Score one for the Terminator. “How _is_ Nightwing?”

Jason couldn’t think of witty enough reply just yet but was thankfully distracted by a text from Roy. _Smile Wide Dentist’s Office. Abandoned._

_Ok, make sure they look out for booby traps, like trip wires and stuff. They won’t be too deadly, just loud shit to warn Joker someone’s coming for him._

“Heard you already lost your decoy,” Slade snickered. “Should have stayed on with me longer, Kid.”

“Aww, you offering to give me a job?” Jason rolled his eyes, but when Slade just stared at him, he felt a cold chill run down the back of his neck. “I don’t kill for money, Slade. You know that.”

“Why not? You realize how many of these little projects you could fund if you did?” Slade smirked and then shrugged. “ _You_ wouldn’t have to take the money.”

“What, you’d just collect it for me?” Jason frowned. “Kind of forces me to change my methods, not to mention it taints what I’m doing.”

“Hasn’t so far,” Slade shrugged.

“Come again?” Jason frowned.

“What do you want me to do about Black Mask, Kid? You gonna take care of him or are you gonna pay me to do it for you?” Slade asked, changing the topic in a not so subtle but highly intentional way. He was leading Jason somewhere. Jason knew him well enough to know that much. “Once Joker is captured he’s gonna contact me again.”

“So then what? I pay you five million to not kill me?” Jason frowned. He knew it’s what they’d agreed on once Jason had moved on to his next instructor, but still. He didn’t have that kind of cash just floating around, and Slade knew it. Was that why he was offering him a job? Work off the supposed debt?

“Far as I’m concerned we’re squared on that front.” Slade smiled, but it was still cold and so, so calculated.

“How so?” Jason frowned.

There was a buzzing again and Slade waited patiently for him to read it. _We got the Joker. It’s done._

_Great. Make sure the cops get the fucking flower in his jacket and any jewelry. They can be lethal little tricks._

He looked back up to Slade, who nodded when he saw him pocket the phone. “I’ve been collecting on the men you’ve taken out in Gotham.”

That was so not what he was expecting and yet… “You’re shitting me,” he said.

“So far I’ve made a little over six million off your kills. When Black Mask offers the contract to me, I’ll let him know I’m not available.” Slade smiled.

“Wait, but how? Almost every single one of them has ended up on the news with The Red Hood taking credit. Why are they letting you take the money?”

“Because I told them you worked for me, that I trained you, and that you owed me.” Slade shrugged.

Jason got back to his seat and flopped down as he rubbed his eyes wearily. This fucking day…It just…It couldn’t… Could it? The Joker wasn’t dead but some kid was. He’d had a full fucking panic attack in front of Bruce and worse, he’d allowed the sanctimonious shithead to calm him. He still needed to have a real fucking meeting with his real fucking security team, and now Slade “The Terminator” Wilson, mostly known by the underworld as Deathstroke, was about to fucking blackmail him into being a contract killer.

“And just what do you believe I actually owe you, Slade?” Jason asked, refusing to look at the man. It was yet another dumb move, but fuck it. With the day he was having; why not? “It’s not like Ra’s didn’t fucking pay you when he brought you in to train me.”

“But _you_ didn’t,” Slade smirked. He didn’t know that for sure because Jason still hadn’t looked, but it was a good bet he had. “Besides, this new agreement would keep you off my radar indefinitely. I’d make far more money off your lethal vigilantism than I would taking you out.”

“Never settle for just one pay day.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

“And you think I didn’t mentor you,” Slade chuckled.

“I am not doing this for the money, Slade,” Jason growled as he finally made eye contact with the fucking cyclops. “I’m doing this to _fix_ Gotham.”

“No one said you weren’t,” the assassin countered. “But there’s no reason why you can’t get paid to do it, as well. Your little construction company rebuilding this neighborhood pro-bono? Of course, not! If you can’t buy bullets, you can’t shoot anyone.”

Jason almost laughed at the absurdity of his day, but then he’d always had a feeling Slade would come around. Especially after he heard that there really was a contract on him, his alter ego and the Waynes. Speaking of which… “You get any offers on the Waynes?”

“The contracts are out there, but I haven’t picked them up or offered to.”

“So, I let you keep collecting the rewards for the dregs of society that I off and you leave me and the aforementioned list of names alone?” After Slade nodded, Jason took a deep breath. “And what happens if the money slows down, or if the contracts aren’t big enough to cover the contracts on our heads? We go back to our original agreement?”

“Yeah. So long as I’m getting paid, I can ignore a few names.”

“Deal.” Jason nodded and offered his hand to the still standing soldier of fortune. He didn’t care that he was seated and the other wasn’t. Again, Jason knew better than to get in a pissing match with Deathstroke.

“You keep me in the loop, Kid. Anything changes or you decide to contract my services, I’ll be close by.”

Once more, Jason felt his lungs constrict and his heart stop. “What? Why?” He demanded. He so did _not_ want Deathstroke in Gotham. 

“You aren’t the only vigilante in Gotham that I’m interested in dealing with, Kid,” Slade answered as he started to move for the door. “Besides, I heard Dick Grayson got dumped for some old pig. Seems like the right time to offer him a shoulder to cry on.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth down. Red blurred his vision momentarily at the jealousy he felt. Dick had been the one to dump him, despite what everyone thought. He chose to end things with JT when he couldn’t handle him being a killer. There was absolutely no way he’d tolerate Slade Wilson when he couldn’t even discuss it with JT Bennet, right? The history wouldn’t matter. Slade was just trying to get under his skin.

“He won’t take you back,” Jason snarled, unable or unwilling to bite his tongue any longer.

“Who said I want him back? Sex doesn’t have to have anything to do with commitment.” And like Oliver Queen before him, and Bruce before Oliver, the man opened the door to conference room and left, preventing Jason from any last word.

With a sigh, Jason pulled his cell phone back out of his pocket. _Tell Dick that Deathstroke was recently seen in Gotham and while you’re hooked up to Batman’s computers get me that information on Valerie Nielson._

He felt angry and tired and bitter.

Someone was going to bleed.

Someone was going to die.

 

* * *

 

 

Smallville Kansas- Kent Farm

1252hrs Central Time

Timothy Drake’s heart clenched as he watched the edited, though still graphic video that had gone viral. He was disgusted by the content’s carnage, but he wasn’t at all prepared for the repulsive comments attached to the links. He didn’t know he bothered to read them. It only served to make him doubt just much people deserved men like Batman or Superman in their cities.

“Quit it,” Conner’s angry voice filled the living room from the couch they were both seated at. “You’ve been watching it over and over again since it happened. Joker’s locked up, just let it go. Put the computer away.”

“I have to find clues. I have to help them.” Tim sighed as he clicked on the replay button.

“Seriously, Tim. Knock it off.” Conner growled the warning. “You’re not even supposed to be doing this stuff.” 

Tim wanted to ignore the hurt and jealousy he was sure he’d heard in the other teen’s voice. He licked his lip subconsciously as he felt his mouth dry from the horrid images of Joker beating the boy to death with a crow bar. “I agreed not to patrol, Conner. I didn’t agree to cutting myself off from the case. Joker’s dangerous and you saw what he did.”

Standing from the couch, Conner approached Tim, who was perched on the opposite end of the furniture. The anger was evident, as was the concern. It must be a vigilante thing, to be so angrily protective of your friends and family.

“Look, I get it. You want to help Jason Todd. But it’s done now. Joker’s locked away. Watching this crap isn’t going to help anyone. It’s just going to get you all riled up because you aren’t in Gotham to do more.”

Tim gently closed his lap top and set it on the empty couch cushion beside him.

“Conner, you can’t possibly believe that Joker will remain locked up. He’ll get loose and when he does, he’ll hurt even more people. I can’t pretend nothing is going on out there. Would you?” Tim stood, because it was already bad enough that Conner was so much taller than him. He refused to sit and look up even higher, just to make eye contact. “I’m not saying that I’m gonna hop a flight home or that I’m going to stay on this all day and night, but there’s no harm in me finding what I can and leaving the notes on my files.”

Connor’s brows furrowed as his blue gaze sharpened angrily. “You’re hoping Jason will find a way to hack the network. That he’ll see your notes. Why?”

Tim blushed, surprised at how easily Connor had figured out part of his plan. Yes, Bruce, Dick and Barbara would continue to check his folder. That was a given. They knew him, and he knew them. But he hadn’t realized he was broadcasting so much concern for the formerly deceased Robin. Was he really that obvious? He’d always prided himself on being impassive in appearance and thought. Just like Bruce.

“He’s dangerous, Tim.” Conner frowned. “His temper? It’s worse than mine and Roy’s combined.”

Tim scoffed at that, because really? No one was that angry. “I know you guys all believe that, but he’s saved my life a few times now.” Tim reminded as he stood his ground.  

“After endangering it in the first place!” Conner snapped, stepping into Tim’s space with heated frustration rolling off his larger body.

Tim forced himself to swallow and blink as he realized Conner’s point. Or was it because of the strange tension that was building up around them the closer Conner got? He’d been ignoring it for some time, but maybe, just maybe, Conner was more mad about Tim being pre-occupied with the mission.

“I was always indifferent toward Jason when he was a Robin, but I was never blind. He was unstable, even then.”

“Name a vigilante, meta or human, who isn’t?” Tim countered.

Conner’s eyes narrowed, but he did nod once. “True, but not all of us are murderers, and that’s the one thing you seem to keep forgetting, Tim. Jason hasn’t just become a killer overnight. He was a murderer during his years as a Robin and if what I’ve been told is true, he was a murderer _before_ he went to live with Bruce.”

“No way.” Tim shook his head adamantly, forgetting about the earlier feelings as his own temper stared to flare. “You’re wrong. Bruce never would have taken Jason in if he knew he’d killed before. Bruce has been against killing since before Dick.”

“Unless he didn’t find out until _after_ he took him in,” Conner countered.

Tim couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as he shook his head. “Conner, come on. He wouldn’t have taken in an orphan that he knew nothing about.” How anyone could think so poorly of Batman’s detective skills was beyond him. “We’re talking about Batman, here.”

“Maybe,” Connor shrugged.

“Seriously, where is this coming from?” Tim asked, because he was feeling confused and angry, and possibly a little suspicious. Was Conner just jealous that Jason was on his mind, or did he really worry this much? If the first, Tim didn’t know what to think. It’s not like they were a couple or anything. Or, well, they hadn’t ever acted on all this tension.

“You weren’t there when he was, Tim. Jason didn’t bond with anyone. This was back before we were trusted to know who you guys were beneath the masks. Honestly, we all thought Jason was just…We figured he was just trying to talk himself up. Seem cooler and more bad-ass or something.” Conner’s eyes focused intently on the floor as he crossed his arms over his chest. “But whenever Roy and Dick were gone, he’d tell us things. Things that like I said, we thought were lies.”

Tim couldn’t help the eyeroll. “Jason Todd does not open up to anyone, let alone strangers. Whatever he told you was just his way of messing with you all and keeping you at a distance.”

Anger flashed across Conner’s now green gaze. “You sure about that?”

“Positive. He’s really not the monster you all thought and still think he is. He does know right from wrong. He…” Tim paused as he took a deep breath, pushing back the worry, and surprisingly, a small amount of sadness, too. “He might think he’s punishing the criminals of Gotham, but part of me thinks that he’s punishing himself, too.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense,” Conner frowned. “What the Hell would make you think that?”

“You don’t know Bruce like we do. Even Clark doesn’t know Bruce the way we Robins do. He’s not a bad guy, he’s not even a bad guardian or father. But he is brutal and hard and at times, unforgiving. He has to be, to do what he does.

“When we mess up, when we get hurt or cause a mission to go south…Looking him in the eyes afterward? It’s not easy, Conner. He expects so much of us, not because he’s unreasonable, but because he knows what we’re capable of. And when we fail him, it’s a crushing weight.”

 “I don’t know how or why he’s been allowed to keep training you —”

“Just stop, Conner. Stop and listen.” Tim shook his head and stepped even closer, their eyes meeting. Tim hated talking badly about Bruce. He didn’t like people thinking worse of him than they already did. He knew for a fact that most of the Justice Leaguers with sidekicks didn’t approve of Batman or his methods. Those thoughts and opinions were naturally passed down to their proteges. Superman and Superboy were not exceptions to this rule. Thus, Tim was always careful to balance the bad with the good when he spoke of Bruce.

 “Batman really does see the best in us and he refuses to accept less than our best. _But_ he also sees how low we can go. And trust me, no Robin wants that to be the bar we’re held to.

“For instance, just imagine you and Superman are doing your thing, and something happens that prevents you from capturing the bad guys. They get away because of a mistake _you_ make. He knows it, you know it. Even the criminal knows it.”

Angered and impatient, Conner waved his arms emphatically as he shouted. “Superman isn’t going to rip me apart! He isn’t going to tear me down and make me feel like a failure! He’s would help me understand where I went wrong and how to do better next time!”

“Okay, first off, neither does Batman! Just like Superman, he goes over what happened. And yeah, he’s angry at the time, but he doesn’t put us down.” Tim glared. Just what did these people think Bruce was? “Now, back to what I was saying.

“So you let the bad guy get away. You feel bad, but Superman pats you on the back and you feel better, right?” He waited for Conner to nod. “The next morning you see on the news that the guy who escaped killed a pregnant woman and her other two kids. The father was devastated and killed himself.

“No matter what Superman says to you after that, whether he’s mad or not, won’t matter. All that’s going to go through your head is your need to fix it. And if you can’t fix it, you’ll try to punish yourself for it. Just to make sure you never make that mistake again.”

“This is stupid!” Conner blurted irritably. “That wouldn’t happen!”

“Yes, it would! It’s exactly what happened!” Tim shouted, feeling his chest constrict and his eyes water.

Conner didn’t seem to take notice of his reaction because it was his turn to roll his eyes, which only deepened the hurt. “Please. It’s just a crappy hypothetical and even if it did happen to Jason, I’m not gonna feel—”

“It didn’t happen to Jason! Or Dick! Or Barbara!” Tim shouted desperately before he sighed in defeat, manically running his hands through his hair. “It happened to me.” He watched the wooden floors blur beneath his black sneakers. He couldn’t look Conner in the eyes. “It was my fifth night on patrol. I-I messed up. I was so sure that he’d run down this one back alley. It made the most sense. But he didn’t. He ran into the open street in the opposite direction.

“Bruce didn’t yell at me or put me down when the guy escaped, but he looked at me with this mixture of disappointment, concern and something like fear. Like he knew this was going to hurt _me_ somehow. I went over it aloud with him, what I did, how I thought and why. I even discussed what I needed to do in the future to prevent it from happening again. He was silent for a long time, but back then, he and I weren’t very close. So maybe he _was_ just pissed, I don’t know.

“Anyhow, when he finally spoke, he told me that this would continue to happen if I kept trying to apply logic to the illogical minds of the criminals we pursued. Before he dropped me off at home, he looked me right in the eye and said: ‘When we fail to bring in men like the one that got away tonight, it’s not just the victims who suffer.’ I didn’t get it. Not until I’d woken up later that morning.

“I was getting ready for school and watching the news. I was in shock. I couldn’t breathe. I definitely couldn’t concentrate. So, for probably the first time in my life, I didn’t go to school. I went straight to the cave and I trained, and I trained, and I trained until I was a sobbing mess, lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and hating myself.

“When Bruce finally came in, he told me I needed to go home and rest, but I didn’t. I went home, showered and hit the streets. I patrolled the moment the sun went down and I tried to captures as many criminals as I could without Batman. I was desperate to prove myself, I was desperate to make up for what I’d done, but more importantly, I was desperate to _punish_ myself.

“It’s what I felt I deserved. Not just because of how awful it felt to know I’d failed that whole family. Tim took a shuddering breath, and unshed tears lined his eyes. “In failing them, it was like I failed _my_ family, even though they were still alive. Worse still, I felt like I failed Bruce and his family, too.”

Tim startled as he felt Conner’s strong, warm arms wrap around him, hugging him tight. “Bruce’s hang ups shouldn’t belong to you or the others,” he said softly. “I don’t care what any of you say, you shouldn’t be punishing yourselves. No one’s perfect.”

“I understand that now. I just don’t think Jason does.” Tim pressed his head against the bright red ‘S’ emblem on the older boy’s shirt. He hoped Conner couldn’t feel how hard he was blushing as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He mentally berated himself to get focused. “I think…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I think he’s going after Joker not just for revenge. Not just because of what happened to him, but to make up for all of his failings with Bruce.”

“Bruce wouldn’t want that though,” Conner shook his head. He seemed quite comfortable with Tim in his arms. “Right?”

“Bruce has always believed that the worst thing you can endure is carrying the weight of the dead on your shoulders.” He nodded against the wall of Conner’s chest. “We do that already, we do it with every life we lose on our watch. I can’t imagine how much heavier it would be if we started killing, too.” 

“Still doesn’t explain why you want to help the lunatic so badly,” Conner muttered. Definitely jealous, Tim decided. “Just because you can relate to someone, doesn’t mean you owe them anything.”

With a heavy sigh, Tim pulled away so that he could look Conner in the eyes. “It’s more than that, Conner. He needs a family.”

He tried not to notice the way the super boy’s eyes darkened or the way he stared as if Tim had just lost his mind. Of all people, Conner really should understand the need to be accepted and to be allowed to feel human. He should know what it was like to be completely isolated and disliked by the very people he looked up to.

“He doesn’t _want_ a family, Tim. He made that clear to the Titans, to Dick and Bruce, and now he’s made it clear to you.”

“I didn’t _say_ he wanted one.” Tim sighed. “I said he _needed_ one.”

 

 

* * *

 

Somewhere In Gotham

March 9th

1945hrs

 

His patience had run thin. Joker got himself locked up, and now Deathstroke was no longer available. He looked his men over carefully and decided that he’d just have to take of this mess himself. He ignored the nagging voice in his head that attempted to remind him he’d failed on that front, too. He was losing too much, too quickly to let this continue.

The question was, who should he go after? The Red Hood was likely as pointless as going after Batman, but going after Bennet or any of the Waynes could provoke either of the aforementioned into protecting them. The Clown had gone and stabbed JT Bennet for some reason instead of going after The Red Hood. Was he trying to lure the vigilante out of hiding?

The underworld really needed a more reliable network of communication. There had been hundreds of rumors since The Hood’s appearance in Gotham but nothing ever confirmed. He’d heard rumors of Robin being injured, killed, or paralyzed. He’d heard that Joker had indeed gone after The Red Hood and that both were seen leaving Old Arkham.

That whole communication thing wasn’t likely to change, though. Scumbags didn’t have a code of honor no matter who liked to romanticize otherwise. They lied to each other, they killed each other, and they definitely worked to undermine each other. He wouldn’t tell Penguin the truth about Batman or The Hood if it served his interests. It was incredible stupid to believe any differently of Penguin.

He sighed as he scratched at his face beneath the mask. Bennet was the cause of all of this. Bennet was nearly dead by his hands months ago. He wanted him. Fuck the Hood and fuck Batman. He wanted JT Bennet six feet under and that’s all there was to it. Once that little bastard was gone, the project went with him and then he’d reclaim his territory. 

“Officer Hill to see you, Sir,” his assistant announced as the petite cop followed her into his office. He looked up from his desk and waved her forward.

“I gotta tell you Officer, I’m a little confused,” he started as he steepled his fingers in front of him. “First you tell me that Bennet is dating Detective Bullock and that it’ll be easy to get rid of Bennet. Yet to my knowledge, an attempt wasn’t even made.”

“We couldn’t, Sir,” she answered immediately. “Detective Bullock and Commissioner Gordon were under the impression that a hit was placed on Bennet; so he had round the clock security. He still does.”

“No, he doesn’t!” Black Mask shouted. “His construction sites now have security! His employees will have security! All _he_ has is a mediocre detective following him everywhere!”

She flinched and looked ready to run. He almost hoped that she would, since he was just as willing to shoot her in the back as he was in the head. Still, he left his guns out of sight because he didn’t have enough cops on his payroll anymore thanks to the Riddler and Cluemaster’s stunt. He had no intention of killing her unless he had to.

“What do you want us to do?”

“If the only thing keeping you from Bennet is the detective, then kill him, too,” he hissed through his teeth but in a slow, frustrated manner. As if he were explaining it to a small child.

“I just don’t think killing the former partner of Commissioner Gordon is going to end well. He may be a joke around the precinct, but he’s got a lot of connections. Dating Bennet also put him on everyone’s radar. He’s still mostly disliked and hated, but that just means that even more people are watching him.”

“What’s your point, Hill?” he interrupted.

“Killing him will bring a lot of attention, especially if Bennet manages to survive another attack.”

“Then he’d better not survive it this time!” he shouted.

“You’re talking about killing a cop, though. That always gets the press’s attention. Good or bad.”

He waved off her concerns. “From what I understand his past was a bit checkered. Used to be on the take back in the day. Pass that tidbit to Sandy Bowers next time you two talk and instead of mourning him, the city will shrug.”

She hesitated as she shifted. “So to be clear, you want us to kill Harvey Bullock and then kill JT Bennet?”

“Am I speaking another language? Yes, that’s what I fucking want!” He shouted again and this time he did reach for his gun. “I don’t give a fuck who you have to kill, but I want that shit stain dead! Do you hear me? Make it fucking happen or I’m burying you instead!”

As the police officer left, one of his enforcers entered the office.

“Max, when Officer Hill has successfully killed the detective and Bennet, I want her and her partner gone, too.”

 The man nodded and waited for further instructions.

“Joker confirmed?”

“Yeah, Boss,” the man nodded. “He was admitted to New Arkham Asylum an hour ago.”

“Damn,” Black Mask frowned. He really shouldn’t have gone with that idiot. The Clown always had his own agenda. “I want our boys to make as big of a ruckus as possible. I don’t want any vigilantes coming to Bullock or Bennet’s rescue, especially since Joker won’t be on their list of priorities.”

“No problem, Boss, I’ll get on it right now. You need anything else?”

He shook his head and waited until he was alone with his assistant. He had just one more problem to take care of and then he would have sufficiently cleared the way for Hill and his men to get the job done once and for all.

“You find out about Pendleton Security?” he asked, knowing she would be ready. She was always ready for his questions because, of his entire organization, she was the only one worth a damn.

“It was just purchased last week by a Slade Wilson. He apparently arrived in Gotham this morning and met with Bennet at his office.”

“Is he gonna be a problem?” he grumbled.

“Hard to say. It was extraordinarily difficult to get that small bit of intel alone. Apparently, he’s a very private man, but he does own a few contract security companies and invests in others as a silent partner. Emphasis on silent.”

He tilted his head and began cracking his knuckles anxiously. “Think we can buy him off?”

“Only one way to find out, Sir. I’ll set up a meeting with him as soon as possible. Would you like me to speak with him or will you want to speak with him yourself?” she asked.

He decided after a moment, “You take care of it.” If this guy turned out to be on the up and up, he didn’t need the police finding out he was trying to target Bennet’s security team. His assistant was by far the subtler of the two and she’d know how to get what they needed without incriminating him.

One last a deep breath and he expelled all the stress of the past few months. Life was about to get a lot easier. He just needed to hold out a little longer and then the Burrows would be his again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working like crazy to get the next bit together. Not gonna make deadline promises anymore since I clearly can't be trusted to keep them.
> 
> Hey guys, so apparently I forgot to add this little note. You may have noticed Deathstroke is not the silver haired ponytail sporting guy from the comics or cartoons. He is fashioned after Manu Bennet’s version of Deathstroke from the Arrowverse. Hope that’s ok and doesn’t throw to many people off.


	39. On A Night Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had originally planned to post this at the exact same time as the other stories I am currently writing, but Jason stole and kept my attention and I haven’t done any writing for the three stories I post. Sorry to those of you who read them as well. 
> 
> I apologize for the incredibly long delay in getting this out. Holidays hit, I had family in town, I lost a guard at my site and we had too much going on. Then the new year starts and I had to see my Dad and now I find out we’re moving back to Utah. It’s been a crazy 3 ½ months. So hopefully you’re all still with me and enjoying the story. 
> 
> Thank you to my dear beta Gwydionx and my roommate for all your help with this story. Don’t know where I’d be with you two.

March 9th

Parking Lot of Dick’s Condo

2020hrs

 

As Dick parked his motorcycle in his personal parking stall, he took allowed himself a nice, long stretch. He was exhausted and worried, but realistically that was probably just because of the adrenaline and stress that had been fueling his body earlier. He couldn’t shake that something was up, something undefined. Like the world was going to come crashing down around him. Was that the drop that he’d always heard so much about?

Personally, Dick had never experienced such a feeling during his years of vigilantism, but Roy spoke of it often. He said it was like sub coming out of their headspace or crack addict coming down from their high. It was this hopeless feeling, like the euphoria just experienced was never going to return. Dick wasn’t quite sure that he feeling that extreme of a low, but he definitely felt lower than normal.

He took his helmet off before locking it to the back of his bike. He needed to get into the asylum tonight, maybe interrogate Joker, just to be sure he didn’t have any more surprises planned for the city, or God forbid, anymore Jason lookalikes stored away somewhere. There was no doubt that the asylum staff would let Nightwing in; they usually preferred it all things considered. Batman and Nightwing knew how to handle the supposed crazies that were often imprisoned at New Arkham.

“Still not one for after care, I see.”

Dick turned in alarm. His heart raced as he took in Slade Wilson, a man that embodied ‘tall, dark, and handsome’. There was no doubt he looked incredible in a suit, he always had. But he was no less intimidating, either. Whenever he saw Slade in his civilian clothes, Dick was reminded of the old ZZ Top song, Sharp Dressed Man.

Wait! What in the Hell was Slade Wilson doing in Gotham? Oh God! He wasn’t there for Jason, was he? That had to be it! He’d upset the apple cart too much. What else would the scum of their city do when faced with a monster like The Red Hood? They’d call the Terminator to put an end to him, that’s what!

“Easy, Grayson.” The man smirked, his accent more subdued than he remembered. While Slade had always appeared to be native New Zealander, his time with the Australian Special Forces had made a permanent impact on the way he spoke. “I heard you were going through some rough times.”

 “And you thought you’d come help me out?” Dick scoffed as he gave Slade a pointed look. “You don’t do anything for anyone. Not for free. Rule number one, remember?”

Slade smiled cruelly, “Well, I’m definitely here on business, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dick felt his stomach drop. “You are?” Here on business meant he was here to kill someone. “You’re here for the Red Hood, aren’t you?”

His brown eye flashed as that smile remained fixed on his face. “Now, you know I don’t discuss my contracts, Grayson.”

“Yeah, but who else could you be here for? No one wants you in town, they’re too afraid you’ll collect on their bounties. Having you here means someone’s gotten really desperate and lately, only one man has rocked the boat enough to warrant contacting you.” Dick explained, watching the older man’s face for any tells.

“Could be,” Slade teased as he dropped his voice just a little, his eye roaming over Dick in a way that was surprisingly subtle for a man with an eyepatch. “But then, one hit usually doesn’t pay out enough for me to come all the way out to Gotham.”

The mercenary wasn’t going to confirm or deny anything; he was too busy playing with his food. Ever the hunter, Slade was always willing to play cat and mouse with Dick in particular. At one time he’d found it somewhat thrilling and more than a little sexy.  To bad for him, Dick had long since out grown those kind of games.

“I’m not playing with you, Slade. I’d wish you happy hunting, but we both know I’ll stop you,” he warned, deciding to call the older man’s bluff. “And don’t think for one second that I’ll go easy on you either.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” Slade chuckled as Dick started to walk away. “But then, you may not see me at all. My business has already been taken care of.”

That had Dick pausing. He frowned as he tried to recall what Bruce had said about Jason. He’d said he was away with a civilian. Bruce would have said if it were Slade, though. Right? He wouldn’t have allowed Jason to fall victim to the most ruthless assassin in the world, would he? Of course not. But then, Jason had yet to appear…

“He wasn’t nearly as difficult to handle as I’d been warned,” Slade added, twisting the knife of fear just a little more.

Slowly, Dick turned to face him, “You’re bluffing. You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me.”

“Can’t it be both?” Slade grinned. “Enjoy your night, Dick. If you find you need a shoulder to cry on, call me. I’ll be around.”

 

* * *

 

March 9th

Harvey’s Condo

2039hrs

 

The kid was standing in front of the mirror, spray painting that odd white streak of his so that it would match the rest of his raven hair. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he debated on how to say what needed to be said. The problem with JT was that he was stubborn and reckless. The stitches had split once already when he got cocky with the damned groceries. What was going to happen once he hit the streets?

“You know blood is evidence, right?” he finally said, because he had to say something. They’d been avoiding talking since the moment they got back from the construction site.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ bleed. I put super glue over the seam, I’ll be fine.” JT insisted with mild exasperation as he set the aerosol can down on Harvey’s porcelain sink. “Fuck, man, you’re such a nag lately.”

“Fuck you, then.” Harvey shrugged. “You wanna go out there and get yourself killed? Fine by me. You wanna give yourself away at a crime scene?  Do it. Just don’t come bitching to me when your ass is behind bars.” He watched JT roll his teal eyes through the mirror as the kid slicked back his chin length hair. “You need a fuckin’ haircut.”

“Pfft, yeah okay, _Dad_. Anything else you wanna bitch at me about before I leave?” JT was already dressed from the waist down in dark brown BDUs and his black work boots. Harvey was grateful that JT was at least smart enough not to leave the condo dressed as the Red Hood. He assumed there was some safe spot he went to, to change later. “Want me to take the trash out too before I go out to play?”

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is tonight, and frankly, I don’t give a damn. If this is how you’re gonna be because I’m showing concern, then like I said, fuck off,” he growled back before turning to walk away.

He went to his fridge, grabbed a beer and then moved to his couch. “Ungrateful little shit,” he mumbled to himself as he turned the television on. “Stomping all over my fucking hardwood floors like some kind of barnyard animal, bitching and moaning about taking care of himself. He looks like some greased-up whop.”

“I can hear you, you know?” JT shouted from the bathroom.

“So?”

“God, you’re such a bitch. You sure you ain’t gay?”

“I’m not the one fucking PMSing, am I?” Harvey clapped back. “I’m out here with a fucking beer, watching,” he paused to switch the TV from the cooking channel to EPSN, “sports. What are you doing? Primping in the bathroom and playing with your hair before you go out!”

He couldn’t deny he was pleased when that got a laugh out of the kid. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to JT, not really. Not at all. The kid had a rough day, and it had only gotten worse from the moment that Security guy left. Harvey was going to do some digging once he was allowed back in the system. Something about Slade Wilson bothered him, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.

JT finally walked out a few minutes later with a long sleeved gray shirt on and a black hoodie speckled with dried cement over it. “I’ll probably be back in the later morning so do me a favor and try not to cry yourself to sleep, okay sweetie?”

Harvey rolled his eyes and flipped him the bird. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“Whatever. I’ll contact you if anything changes.” JT grinned and then leaned down and pecked Harvey on the lips.

The action startled them both, but if JT’s blush were anything to go by, he’d say it shocked the younger a little more. JT took a step back, blinking stupidly.

“Part of the act, right? Getting comfortable with each other,” Harvey said to try to make JT feel better, but he could see the embarrassment in the kid’s expression. “We discussed that we needed to keep it up, right? Make it look natural when we have to do it in public?”

“Yeah, of course. Uh…see ya.” JT took the out before quickly disappearing out the front door.

Harvey waited only a few moments before he sat forward, set down his beer on a coaster he kept on the side of the couch, and ran his hands through his hair. He had to put a stop to the kid’s affections. Lord knew Harvey loved that kid, but like a brother. An obnoxious, dangerous, little brother who desperately needed a friend. It wasn’t hard too pretend to be his boyfriend either, not really. He was secure enough in himself to know that this was just an act, that he was undercover for the safety of JT Bennett.

It was apparently becoming hard for JT, though. JT, who was rebounding hard after losing someone Harvey wasn’t entirely convinced the kid was over. No doubt about it, his charge was going through a lot, and Harvey would cut him a lot of slack, but he was also worried that he was going to wind up hurting JT. Clearly, the younger wasn’t emotionally stable and being dumped by Harvey once this was all done and over with could really set him back further.

He picked up the remote and started flipping channels, completely uninterested in whatever the Hell sports analysis ESPN was airing. What could he do to help JT without hurting him further? Was it too much to hope that JT would self-adjust after that awkward little encounter? But then, how long were they going to keep up this ruse? Was it better to let him get comfortable for the sake of their act?

Harvey shifted uncomfortably at the thought. Was he being vain? Maybe it was just his ego telling him that JT was into him. It had been a long time since anyone had looked Harvey’s way and while he really wasn’t into JT, he couldn’t deny it had been a hell of a stroke to his ego that someone as attractive as JT had a thing for him. Unlike a majority of his straight, male co-workers, Harvey was flattered rather than disgusted by the idea.

A loud knock at the door pulled him from his musing. He frowned. It wasn’t just loud, but urgent. Did JT leave his keys behind? He should have been able to  get back in on his own. He pulled himself up from his couch and walked the short distance to the front door. He took a peek through the peephole as his eyes widened. “What in the fuck?”

 

* * *

 

March 9th

New Arkham Asylum

2200hrs

 

Jason still wasn’t dressed as The Red Hood. Not technically anyhow. He was working his way into Arkham Asylum as a janitor. A feat he had to admit that would’ve been a lot harder without Roy’s help. After the archer had confirmed that he still hadn’t found Valerie Nielsen, he’d predicted that Jason would want to take out Joker.

True, he originally had something much better planned for the clown, but he wasn’t an idiot. Trying to force a plan could end in disaster. He’d already lost the fucker a few times; he refused to do it again for the sake of some overly complicated revenge fantasy.

He pushed the cleaning cart that held a trash bin on the front with two large shelves filled with cleaning supplies through the halls. New Arkham wasn’t the insult the original had been. So far, the building was well cared for and the patients seemed fine. Though, not one of the first three floors housed the criminally insane.

White walls were kept cleaned; same with the white and brown linoleum tiled floors. There weren’t screams of despair or patients pleading to be released. Sure, there were likely one or two who may have felt that need, but from everything he’d read about the new facility, it was run properly. There weren’t any psychotic doctors or nurses conducting experiments or orderlies abusing the patients.

The fact that this place wasn’t corrupt actually made Jason a tad bit nervous. Did he stick out? Did this place function so well that someone was only seconds away from realizing he didn’t belong? He couldn’t deny that he was terrified to be in the institution. It’d be only too easy for Nightwing and Kid Flash to trap him here. That concern played back and forth across his mind numerous times. Especially as he neared the elevator to get to the basement floor where the criminally insane were kept.

Of course, it would be the basement, because why the fuck not? No reason to steer clear of clichés, right? He shook his head as he got in and swiped the access badge over the card reader. He then pressed B1 and held his breath, just like he had as a kid. Though he didn’t make a wish. He’d stopped doing that when he met Dick. Dick, who had been kind enough to inform him he had it all wrong.

_“You hold your breath and make a wish while driving through tunnels, Little Wing. Not elevators.”_

For some reason, he’d never been able to stop holding his breath.

As soon as the doors opened, he went up to the security desk and handed them the temp badge he’d gotten from reception. It hadn’t taken much to get himself on the cleaning crew for the night. The Asylum used the same janitorial company that Bennett Construction used according to Roy.

“Officer Martinez is going to escort you tonight,” the woman told him before looking to her counterpart.

The man stepped up beside him, and Jason had to admit he was impressed. This wasn’t just some state licensed guard. He moved like he was former military or maybe SWAT. He was in shape and looked ready to either strike up a conversation with you or ready to take your ass down in a flying armbar if necessary. This would make his mission harder than he anticipated.

“How we doin’ this, boss?” Jason asked.

“Start at the back and work our way forward.” Martinez answered. “Be careful with this first one, though.”

“OK?” He tried to prompt the guard, but apparently that wasn’t gonna happen. Jason knew better though. The last cell housed Joker and that’s the one they were going to start with. If Roy wasn’t setting him up, then the redhead had proved quite useful when he got the layout, room numbers and room occupants. Especially since Barbara, Tim and Bruce were still monitoring the security systems of Arkham just in case Joker escaped.

They were probably looking for him to break in, too. But Jason had been walking with a limp from the parking lot all the way to this corridor. Not to mention wearing the black coveralls, a hat and slouching would at least get him in before they could stop him. So far, so good.

Taking a deep breath, he waited for the guard to open Joker’s door. The guard entered first and restrained Joker by strapping him to the bed, before calling Jason in.

His teal eyes widened in surprise. That wasn’t the fucking Joker! The make-up, the hair, the height and even the build were close, but not a perfect match. Not to mention the smile was all wrong!

Fuck!

“You gotta be shitting me!”

“Relax, Man, he’s been pretty docile since Kid Flash dropped him off,” Martinez advised, believing Jason’s reaction to have stemmed from the fear of seeing Joker.

“Ain’t no way I’m cleaning this clown’s room!” He backed out with his hands up, as if he were truly frightened, but really, he wanted to attack the man. He wanted to demand answers, but in the long run, it just wasn’t worth it.

“Are you kidding me? Aren’t you guys supposed to be professionals?” Martinez snapped irritably. “You realize they’ll can your ass if you refuse this job, right? I mean he’s already strapped to the bed, just clean out the trash and,”

“Fuck this!” Jason shook his head. “I heard about that guy. You never know what he’s gonna do! What if he booby trapped the trash can?”

The imposter started laughing then and it all made sense. Jason had used a decoy, so now Joker was doing the same thing. The whole damn thing had been a set-up! Nightwing would have known the minute he saw him, too, but Kid Flash? That guy had never fought the real Joker before! Son of a bitch! Damn Slade! That fucker ruined everything!

He turned and ran from the room as if unwilling to spend another moment anywhere near the supposed Clown Prince of Crime. He was careful to keep the limp as he ran past the desk and to the elevator. He avoided looking at the camera, just as he had the entire time, but part of him didn’t care. Part of him wanted the Bats that were watching to understand how badly they’d fucked up. For Dick to finally understand why Bruce didn’t allow outside capes to get involved in Gotham’s affairs.

He tightened his fists again and again as he waited for the damned elevator to bring him to the main floor. It felt like an eternity with his blood boiling, but was likely only a minute or so. He stomped/limped to the main desk and dropped his badge on the desk. “Fuck this job. Find someone else.”

The gal behind the desk sighed and nodded. “I can’t say as I blame you. We’ve had several people turn in their resignation this morning once word got out that the Joker was here. Good luck to you.”

A vibration had him pulling out his phone as he nodded at the woman before heading to the exit. It was Roy, of course. _What happened?_

_It wasn’t the fucking Joker! Your idiot friend brought in an imposter!_ He more than a little surprised he hadn’t busted his phone with how hard he typing.

_Fuck!_

He frowned and then quickly asked, _Kid Flash still in town?_

_Yeah._

_I want him the fuck outta here._

_Good luck with that. As soon as he hears he fucked up he’ll want to help make up for it._

Jason glowered at the thought before taking a deep breath. He knew what to do. He knew how to get Kid Flash out of town. He took out and lit a cigarette before contacting Roy. _Give me a minute._

Jason frowned as he flipped through his contacts, taking a deep drag off the little white cancer stick. He needed Kid Flash gone right fucking now. He smirked as he found it, Snow Fairy. He pressed send and listened to the lame ass ringback. Ice, Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice. Could that stupid thief be any fucking cornier?

“Well, well, well. To what do I owe this pleasure, Street-Rat?” the snarky voice answered.

“Need to call in that favor you owe me,” Jason grumbled, blowing out a cloud of gray smoke.

“Been watching the news. Gotham seems to have a new hero,” the man stated, completely ignoring Jason. It was fairly typical of him, though.

“Yeah and he fucked up royally,” Jason snarled, taking an angry drag. “Brought in a decoy. I want him the fuck out of here.”

“I take it that’s the favor you’re calling in?” the man snorted. “You do realize anything I do is going to catch his mentor’s attention, right? Not Kid Flash.” 

“Fuck that,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Look, Snart, just fucking kidnap his girlfriend or something. Do it in Keystone and make sure she only contacts him.”

“You’re asking a lot. Especially with zero notice. I don’t operate that way,” the thief replied. “I don’t think the favor I owe you is extreme enough to risk Kid Flash’s wrath or jail-time.”

“Then fucking lie about kidnapping her, I don’t care! Just do something to get Kid Flash out of here, and not only does that scratch your debt to me, but I’ll owe you one instead.” He bargained before taking another drag.

There was a long pause before the Central City thief finally responded. “That, I can work with. He’ll be on his way back home before the night’s over. Keep your nose clean, Street-Rat.”

“Fuck off, you damned fairy.” Jason ignored the laughter as he rolled his eyes and ended the call. He quickly texted Roy back. _It should be taken care of shortly._

_Why do I get the feeling that you’ve somehow put him in danger?_

_Because your instincts are so far off the mark, it’s a wonder you’re considered an expert archer. Did you shoot up or are you really that stupid?_ Jason’s eyes narrowed as he texted, his cigarette nestled between his lips so that he could use both hands.

_God, I fucking hate you._

Jason smirked and shrugged to himself. _Ditto, Sweetheart._

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and started toward his motorcycle in the parking lot. He needed to get his gear back at the underground tunnel he used beneath Bennett Construction. He straddled the bike, pulled out a key and started it up. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and took off.

It didn’t take him long at all to get what he needed. He made sure he was armed and that his protective gear was in place. When taking on the clown, one always had to be prepared for the worst. You never knew what the freak was going to use against you. He had just activated his helmet when he received a phone call.  

He tapped the hidden button near the ear of his helmet and took Arsenal’s call. “What?”

“The entire fucking city just exploded in criminal activity!”

“What?” Jason frowned, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, at exactly 2247 dispatch was flooded with calls. We’ve got home invasions, fires, looting, fights, ATM robberies, robberies at gas stations, the works! It’s more than GCPD can handle. Robin, Oracle and Batman are online. The theory is that this is a coordinated plan of attack, but we haven’t figured out why or who the specific target is.”

“It’s got to be an attempt to distract the vigilantes. The question is, who is doing it and why?” Jason frowned as realized he could hear police, ambulance and fire sirens going off in all directions at various feet away. “Where’s Nightwing?”

“Uh…I don’t know,” Arsenal admitted.

“Fuck. You told him about Deathstroke earlier, right?”

“I never got the chance man. There was other shit going on and he was talking to Batman or something. I didn’t want Batman to know I’m talking to you!”

“Fuck me, Arsenal. Are you serious?” He hissed through gritted teeth. “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry. I meant to warn him, I swear!”

“What about Kid Flash?”

“Dude, he’s been gone. He got a call from his girlfriend almost as soon as you and I were done texting! Said she got kidnapped by Captain Cold and Heatwave.”

“Fuck, he didn’t waste any time there, did he?” Jason smirked.

“It’s so bad that Bruce is contemplating coming out, Hood. He’s only giving Nightwing another five minutes to respond and then he’s getting himself geared up,” Roy warned.

“Okay, look. We only need to find out who these men work for to get a better idea of who they’re targeting. Oracle will know first, as soon as she knows, you’d better know! Got it?” he ordered as he climbed back on his bike.

“Hey, Hood, there’s a 9-1-1 call coming in that Oracle is listening in on and its bad. It’s coming from an Officer Grayson.” Roy’s tone was making Jason nervous. He felt his heart twist at the thought of something happening to Dick. Was he the target? Slade had mentioned that there were hits on almost all the Waynes and Dick Grayson counted in the eyes of all of Gotham as a Wayne. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

“What is it, Arsenal?” he snapped impatiently, his hands starting to grip the handles of his still parked motorcycle. Please let Dick be okay, please let Dick be okay.  

“It’s Black Mask’s men that are fucking everything up,” Roy told him, but that wasn’t what Jason wanted to know, and the fuck knew it! He started to growl when Roy started speaking again. “You need to go after Black Mask.”

“What happened, Arsenal?” He shouted. What didn’t Roy want to tell him? “Is he alright?”

“Officer Grayson is fine, Red,” Arsenal answered, but the wording was deliberate.

“Is it Ti-, is it Robin?” he corrected quickly.

“No, man. He’s still out of town. Robin’s fine,” Arsenal answered. “Look, you need to get,”

Jason cut off the call and pressed another button on his helmet. “Connect to Gotham Emergency Dispatch channel.”

At once he heard several calls for different medical emergencies and he worried he’d miss what he was looking for. But then he heard it.

“Repeat, Officers Down. Officers Down,” A woman’s voice relayed urgently before sending off an address, an address that belonged to Detective Harvey Bullock. “One medical unit required.”

“This is unit 38722, we’re accepting the assignment and are now en-route,”

“Copy that unit 38722. Victim is a white male, mid forties with two shots to the chest.  It is report that the victim is unresponsive and is not breathing. An off-duty officer is on scene and is currently attempting CPR.”

“Are we clear to enter the scene?”

“Yes. Police units 24 and 92 have arrived and have secured the scene for emergency crews to enter safely.”

Jason still hadn’t moved, hadn’t even attempted to drive out of the tunnel while he’d listened in. His stomach rolled violently, the first part of his body to acknowledge what he’d heard. He ripped the helmet off, controlling the urge to vomit, as he breathed in the cold night air. A combination of terror and fury prevented him from thinking straight. One thing was clear, though.

Black Mask did this. Black Mask killed Harvey Bullock. The red swam at his vision as he felt his entire body tensing and trembling all at once. He ignored the consistent calls that were coming in from Arsenal as he took three long, deep breaths.

Jason seethed, he fumed, and he raged. The Black Mask was going to rue the day he ordered the hit on Jason Todd’s family. The entire underworld of Gotham was going to be left hemorrhaging so badly that they’d have no choice but to flee or die.

“I’m coming for you, Black Mask,” he promised aloud before he took off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you all loved this chapter and this update. For those wanting to know more about whether or not Slade and his past will be featured heavily in this story, at this time I have no intentions of digging to deeply into his past. I am not even sure how long his cameo will last. 
> 
> Captain Cold's cameo is mostly based on my version of him for another story I write. Sorry if he doesn't quite fit up with anyone's ideas or visions of him. Same with Slade Wilson. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave me a comment and let me know what you thought!


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